T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology 9780567153661, 0567153665

Citation preview

9780567033604_Prelims_Final_txt_print.indd vi

12/21/2011 12:30:58 PM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

9780567033604_Prelims_Final_txt_print.indd i

12/21/2011 12:30:57 PM

Titles in this series include T&T Clark Companion to Methodism, edited by Charles Yrigoyen Jr. T&T Clark Companion to Nonconformity, edited by Robert Pope T&T Clark Companion to Augustine and Modern Theology, edited by C.C. Pecknold and Tarmo Toom

9780567033604_Prelims_Final_txt_print.indd ii

12/21/2011 12:30:57 PM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology Edited by

David M. Whitford

LON DON • N E W DE L H I • N E W YOR K • SY DN EY

9780567033604_Prelims_Final_txt_print.indd iii

12/21/2011 12:30:57 PM

Bloomsbury T&T Clark An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square London WC1B 3DP UK

1385 Broadway New York NY 10018 USA

www.bloomsbury.com Bloomsbury is a registered trade mark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published 2012, reprinted in paperback 2014 © David M. Whitford, 2012, 2014 David M. Whitford has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organization acting on or refraining from action as a result of the material in this publication can be accepted by Bloomsbury or the author. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN 978-0-5671-5366-1 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

9780567033604_Prelims_Final_txt_print.indd iv

12/21/2011 12:30:58 PM

To Brad, Greg, Kay, and Ward. Not all who wander are lost.

9780567033604_Prelims_Final_txt_print.indd v

12/21/2011 12:30:58 PM

9780567033604_Prelims_Final_txt_print.indd vi

12/21/2011 12:30:58 PM

Contents

Preface

ix Part I: Theological Topics

1

Studying and Writing about the Reformation David M. Whitford

3

2

Human Nature, the Fall, and the Will Robert Kolb

14

3

Revelation and Scripture R. Ward Holder

32

4

Justification Carl R. Trueman

57

5

Law and Gospel Ľubomír Batka and Anna Marie Johnson

72

6

Election Chad Van Dixhoorn

86

7

Sanctification, Works, and Social Justice Carter Lindberg

105

8

The Sacraments Bryan Spinks

123

9

The Church and Ministry Paul Avis

143

10

Preaching and Worship Anne T. Thayer

157

11

Women, Marriage, and Family Karen E. Spierling

178

vii

9780567033604_Prelims_Final_txt_print.indd vii

12/21/2011 12:30:58 PM

Contents

12

Catechisms and Confessions of Faith Karin Maag

197

13

Church Discipline and Order Raymond A. Mentzer

213

14

Eschatology, Apocalypticism, and the Antichrist Robin B. Barnes

233

15

Political Theology in the Reformation Volker Leppin

256

16

Superstition, Magic, and Witchcraft during and after the Reformation Peter Maxwell-Stuart

269

17

Radical Theology Geoffrey Dipple

291

18

Images and Iconoclasm Randall C. Zachman

315

19

Martyrdom Haruko Nawata Ward

332

Part II: A Reformation ABC Definitions Short Definitions of Contributors Contributors to the Volume Notes

355 468 469 472

viii

9780567033604_Prelims_Final_txt_print.indd viii

12/21/2011 12:30:59 PM

Preface

In 2005, Professors Mark Noll and Carolyn Nystrom asked whether or not the Reformation could officially be considered over (Is the Reformation Over?: An Evangelical Assessment of Contemporary Roman Catholicism, Baker Publishing). They answered with a somewhat hesitant yes. It was hesitant because they believed that evangelical Protestants and Catholics have found some broad agreement on questions such as the place and primacy of doctrine of Justification within Christian theology, though other issues remain. The reception of Noll and Nystrom has been contested; some Catholics and Protestants have raised concerns and others given praise. One of the unintended consequences of the book was again the reminder that many people today, of all theological stripes, are ignorant of the history of Protestant Reformation and the contours of Reformation-era theology. This book cannot answer Noll and Nystrom’s question. It can, however, help people better understand what is at stake in the question of whether or not the Reformation is over. This book is divided into two parts. The first part contains an introductory chapter on ways in which one might use this book as one writes and studies the theology and praxis of the Reformation. This introductory chapter is followed by 18 essays on various theological doctrines, issues, and topics that were contested during the Reformation era. These essays are intended to not only introduce the reader to the main contours of the topic but to also help one dig deeper into the subject matter. Each essay has a bibliography of primary and secondary sources, and the notes for all the essays are compiled at the end of the book. The list of 18 topics is not exhaustive. No single book—even one as long as this one—could be. However, the topics discussed here are all central to the topic of Reformation theology. This centrality is then augmented in the second part. Part II contains short definitions and explanations of scores of important people, events, and theological topics from the Reformation. These have additional recommendations for study. Thus, this book can serve as both an introduction to the topic of Reformation theology and a road map to further study and inquiry.

ix

9780567033604_Prelims_Final_txt_print.indd ix

12/21/2011 12:30:59 PM

Preface

The production of any book, and perhaps especially edited volumes, acquires debts of gratitude and often patience. This one is no exception. To Thomas Kraft of T&T Clark, I wish to express my thanks for asking me to tackle this project. I also thank him for his exceptional patience as the project took far longer to bring to fruition than I ever would have believed. His trusted sidekick Anna Turton has been, as always, both supportive and a joy to work with. The contributors to this volume are many of the leaders in the field of Reformation history. Their willingness to share their knowledge and understanding of the sixteenth century embodies the highest calling of our profession—the desire to share and teach. Perhaps the greatest debt goes to my former student, Adam Wirrig. Adam helped me keep this project on track and aided me in ways too numerous to recount here. Finally, this book is dedicated to the group of friends that make wandering through the sixteenth century together a constant joy: Brad, Greg, Kay, and Ward.

x

9780567033604_Prelims_Final_txt_print.indd x

12/21/2011 12:30:59 PM

Part I Theological Topics

9780567033604_Ch01_Final_txt_print.indd 1

12/19/2000 9:52:41 AM

9780567033604_Ch01_Final_txt_print.indd 2

12/19/2000 9:52:41 AM

1

Studying and Writing about the Reformation David M. Whitford

The European Reformation was primarily a religious event driven by theological concerns. That it also had broad social, cultural, and political implications is not surprising. Because the early-modern world was not yet a secular world, the theological affected the social and political just as much and sometimes more than the narrowly defined ecclesiastical. When a sixteenth-century person confronted an unknown or unexplained event he or she looked first to find God’s hidden hand at work behind the event. Political events were simultaneously understood as religious events. The Fall of Belgrade in 1521 signaled not only a military defeat but was reckoned as a judgment of God. The Bible provided the norm and rule of life. When selecting a topic of study in Reformation theology, one needs to be cognizant of this reality. Attempting to write a paper or thesis on a Reformation theology topic, then, might seem an overwhelming task. It need not be, however. There are a number of steps that one can take to ensure a comprehensive—if not exhaustive—examination of a topic at hand. The first step is to use this book as a guide. The articles and definitions within this book are designed to give you an overall introduction into the main theological loci (or topics) that were important in Reformation theology. The list is not exhaustive, but it is comprehensive. It covers the most important doctrines and topics. Each chapter, as you have seen, also has a bibliography that gives some of the most important English language works that you will want to look at as you move further into your research. This book is intended to help you delve deeper into the subjects, people, and theological perspectives of the European Reformation. In this opening chapter, I hope to provide you with a basic framework for how to write a semester paper or short thesis paper on a Reformation theology topic. It is my hope that this chapter, the topical chapters that follow it, and the brief dictionary of key terms and persons from the sixteenth century will help you chart a successful course through the study of Reformation theology.

3

9780567033604_Ch01_Final_txt_print.indd 3

12/19/2000 9:52:41 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

When selecting a topic for your study, the most important thing to do is to find a question or issue that has some natural interest for you. If it interests you and you write persuasively, it will also interest your reader. Interest does not mean, of course, that we set aside the ideal of being impartial when examining and weighing evidence. A paper or essay on a particular theological issue in the Reformation, especially when written in a theological seminary, may end with a judgment about the correctness or suitability of that position but that is the final movement in a paper and can only come after giving each side of a debate a fair and unbiased hearing. After you have discovered a theological topic that resonates with your interest, the next most practical step is to identify a specific theologian that you want to learn more about. Many of the leading theologians of the sixteenth century have excellent introductions to their lives and theological positions. These introductions will enable you to quickly identify the key primary texts written by the theologian of your choice on issues you have selected as well as help you identify other major themes explored by that theologian. For a quick-reference guide that will enable you to grasp the overarching themes of many theologians and traditions, Carter Lindberg’s The European Theologians (2002) and my own Reformation and Early Modern Europe: A Guide to Research (2007) are excellent places to start. For specific individuals, one ought to begin with the major recent and thorough examinations of their thought. For Martin Luther, an excellent place to begin is Bernhard Lohse’s Martin Luther’s Theology (1999). Other works to consult include, The Theology of Martin Luther (1966) by Paul Althaus and Donald McKim’s Companion to Martin Luther (2003). For a theologically nuanced biography of Luther, see Heiko Oberman’s Luther: Man between God and the Devil. For John Calvin, François Wendel’s Calvin: The Origins and Development of His Thought (1963) and Donald McKim’s Companion to John Calvin (2004) are both excellent. For Calvin’s life and theological development, one ought to consult Bruce Gordon’s Calvin (2009). W. P. Stephens’ The Theology of Huldrych Zwingli (1988) is the best comprehensive introduction to Zwingli’s theology available in English. Ulrich Gabler’s Huldrych Zwingli: His Life and Work (1986) is also worth consulting. D. F. Wright has an excellent study of Martin Bucer in Martin Bucer: Reforming Church and Community (1994). Introductions such as these will enable you to identify some of the key primary sources that touch upon your topic. Depending on the length of your intended study, it is often best to begin a project by identifying a single source. Primary sources can come in a variety of different formats. Some are archival, such as birth and death records written by parish clergy over the centuries or the records of minutes of church meetings or ecclesiastical bodies. There are

4

9780567033604_Ch01_Final_txt_print.indd 4

12/19/2000 9:52:41 AM

Studying and Writing about the Reformation

also more concrete artifacts such as carvings of saints that have had their faces disfigured during iconoclastic riots, epitaphs on gravestones, or the presence (or absence) of pews in churches. For Reformation theology, however, most of the primary sources are written documents that were published over the course of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Contextualizing and analyzing a single source will often exhaust the requirements for all but the most in-depth papers. Finding the text of your author is often easier than it might appear at the beginning of a project. Nearly all the major theologians of the sixteenth century have had their works compiled into collections or authoritative editions. Many theologians can also be found in both the original languages and in English translation. Whenever possible, it is a worthy exercise to compare the original language writings to the standard translation. The standard version of Luther’s writings is D. Martin Luthers Werke. Kritische Gesamtausgabe; it is commonly referred to as the Weimar Ausgabe (WA) because it was published in the city of Weimar.1 Publication began in 1883 and revisions and republications continue to this day. The standard English version (often called the American Edition) is Luther’s Works, abbreviated LW. In 54 volumes plus 1 Index volume, many of the most important of Luther’s treatises, letters, and Table Talks are translated and introduced.2 In 2007, Concordia Publishing House announced plans to publish new volumes of previously un-translated works by Luther that will ultimately expand the LW to more than 70 volumes. John Calvin’s, Ulrich Zwingli’s, and Philipp Melanchthon’s works in the original languages are all found in the Corpus Reformatorum (CR). Melanchthon has the first 28 volumes, Calvin’s works are volumes 29–87,3 and Zwingli’s writings are in volumes 88–101. The last volume in each group contains a relatively helpful index.4 Of these three Reformers, only Calvin’s work has been widely and systemically translated into English. The most important works of Calvin’s, that is, The Institutes of the Christian Religion and his biblical commentaries, have all been translated. For the final version of Institutes, one should consult the “McNeil-Battles” edition, Library of Christian Classics vol. 20–21, edited by John T. McNeill and translated by Ford Lewis Battles. If one is interested in learning how Calvin’s thought evolved over time, the 1536 edition of the Institutes and the 1541 French edition have both been translated into English.5 The Commentaries are widely available in seminary, college, and university libraries and can also be read online at the Christian Classics Ethereal Library.6 Once you have identified the doctrine or topic that you wish to examine and you have identified the key text you wish to study in detail, you will need to contextualize the document. Asking the following questions will help you

5

9780567033604_Ch01_Final_txt_print.indd 5

12/19/2000 9:52:41 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

properly (and thoroughly) exegete your text. I have divided these questions into two groups: external questions and internal questions:

Setting the External Context

Understanding the Internal Context

(1) Provenance (2) Wider Historical Context (3) Life of the Theologian (4) Audience

(1) Genre (2) Purpose (3) Theological Sources (4) Use of the Bible Understanding the Effects and Impact (1) Other writings on same topic (2) Reactions—Responses (3) Legacy (4) Evaluation

It is best to start with external questions first since they will help you understand what was going on around your theologian at the time that he or she wrote the treatise you are examining. Then examine the internal structure and purpose of your work. Here a close reading will be your best asset. Finally, one should turn to assessing the effects and impact of the theological perspective or treatise. The last step of this final stage will be your opportunity to offer your own evaluation of the doctrine or topic.

Setting the External Context In the history of the church, very few theologians have simply gotten up in the morning and decided to write a theological essay on some topic or another. Almost always, some larger historical or ecclesiastic event spurs them to write. In 1916, Karl Barth wrote his commentary on the book of Romans in part as a response to World War I. Fifteen centuries earlier, Augustine wrote The City of God as the western Roman Empire was collapsing. As with Augustine and Barth, Luther and others in the sixteenth century were as effected by the larger world around them as they affected it. Provenance Provenance is the first thing that must be settled when discussing any historical work of literature or artifact. Provenance actually encompasses two closely connected topics. First, where did the book or artifact come from and second, how did it get from that place and time to us? Provenance is especially 6

9780567033604_Ch01_Final_txt_print.indd 6

12/19/2000 9:52:41 AM

Studying and Writing about the Reformation

important for artifacts as it helps to prove authenticity. When we limit our discussion to books, we ask similar but different questions. For example, can the authorship of the book be trusted? Do we know, for example, that Luther actually wrote the Ninety-Five Theses? While that question is fairly easy to answer because he claimed it was his and wrote defenses of it, his later lectures on the book of Genesis are a bit more complicated because they were published not from his manuscript but from student notes. Thus, one has to be a bit more circumspect about claiming they represent Luther’s thought when examining the Genesis lectures than the Ninety-Five Theses. Asking where a book was published and how it came to be published can offer many interesting facts as well.7 If you discover that a source you were planning to work on is either of uncertain, unknown, or false origin, it is best at that point to discuss the topic with your professor. Pseudepigraphical (from the Greek for false writing) works can be some of the most interesting works both for their history and their theology but they can also become a rabbit warren of complicated questions so that you ought to seek some guidance from your professor before moving on with the topic. Historical Context Setting the historical context of a particular theological treatise during the Reformation is often simultaneously the most straightforward and most important aspect of contextualizing the document. Introductions to important treatises often highlight the events that helped precipitate it. For others, however, you may have to dig a bit deeper. All introductions and all publications of the theological works you might analyze will provide you with the year it was published at the very least. There are only a handful of years in the sixteenth century when the exact month will make an enormous difference to the historical context. In those cases, introductions ought to clarify that. If they don’t, that is another good time to consult your professor. Once you have established the year, a good general introduction to the history of the Reformation will help contextualize the larger events of that year within the sixteenth century. Mark Greengrass’ The European Reformation also has a large number of chronological charts that can help establish a framework for your time period. As you work through the historical context, also pay some attention to geography. In many ways, Martin Luther was able to survive and thrive despite the pope’s attempts to excommunicate him and have him arrested because he lived in the Holy Roman Empire (HRE). The HRE had a diverse and divided governing structure. In Saxony, Frederick the Wise (Luther’s prince) had far more power and authority than did Emperor Charles V. This was not the case in places like England or France where even great lords (i.e., dukes and earls) were subjects and under-lords of the king and therefore had little independent authority. Had Luther been a subject of either the king of 7

9780567033604_Ch01_Final_txt_print.indd 7

12/19/2000 9:52:42 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

France or the king of England rather than the duke of Saxony, he would not have fared nearly as well. Life of the Theologian In April of 1525, Martin Luther published a public letter to the nobility and peasants of southern Germany that he hoped would provide a framework for a possible resolution to the increasing strife in the area. He published his Admonition to Peace sometime (we are unsure of the exact date) in late April. At the same time, he also set out on a journey to the small town of Eisleben to help open a new school. During the journey to and from Eisleben he encountered the effects of the increasingly violent peasants’ rebellion. On May 1, 1525, while he was trying to preach, the audience became aggressive and some people tried to disturb the service. As he walked home, he heard more and more reports of murder, rape, and destruction by rebelling peasants. The Peasants’ War had truly begun. He arrived home in Wittenberg on May 6 and almost immediately began writing one of his most controversial works, Against the Murdering Hordes of the Other Peasants. It is a vociferous and blistering attack against the rioting peasants. It urges that these rioting peasants be stopped by any and all means. On May 12, nobles and professional soldiers slaughtered rebelling peasants at the Battle of Frankenhausen. Four days later, Luther’s Against the Murdering Hordes was published. It looked like an after-the-fact justification of the slaughter when, in fact, Luther was horrified by the events of Frankenhausen. The speed with which the tense situation changed during the events of 1525 was certainly not the norm either in the life of Luther or the sixteenth century, but it does highlight for us the importance of asking what might have been happening in a particular person’s life at the time surrounding the theological work that you are investigating. John Calvin, for example, expanded and revised the Institutes for the first time after he had tried using it for its stated purpose—religious instruction. Clearly, that experience taught him that he needed to clarify some points and expand others. Understanding a theologian’s context also helps protect us from viewing their theology as monolithic and unchanged over time. Audience Especially in an era of fierce debate, it is essential to consider the intended audience of a piece. Let us take just one document and consider the very different understandings of that document that arise depending upon the audience. In late October 1517, to whom was Martin Luther writing when he penned his Ninety-Five Theses? If one argues that he wrote them to be widely published (as they subsequently were) and addressed the German people, the Church, and fellow clergy, then the image of an ardent “Reformer” is immediately called to 8

9780567033604_Ch01_Final_txt_print.indd 8

12/19/2000 9:52:42 AM

Studying and Writing about the Reformation

mind. This is the image of the defiant Luther ringing out righteous judgment with every fall of the hammerhead as he nailed the Theses to the door of the Wittenberg Castle Church. But, what if his audience was instead his students and the door of the church was the university bulletin board? Then, Luther is simply one in a long list of college professors who wrote or said something that was unwittingly provocative and thus backed into a tempest rather more by accident than intention. The introductions to many primary sources will provide some information about the intended audience of the piece you are examining. Many treatises were also written with an intended audience and were simultaneously dedicated to a specific person. Most of the time, the person to whom a work was dedicated can also tell us something about the author’s intentions. To find out more about a specific person, one should consult Hans Hillerbrand’s The Oxford Encyclopedia of the Reformation or Peter Bietenholz’s Contemporaries of Erasmus: A Biographical Register of the Renaissance and Reformation. As you consider audience, it is important to keep in mind their social location (e.g., were they rich or poor; city elites or country peasants; educated or uneducated; noble or common?) and religious background. A treatise meant to encourage people to join a particular side of the Reformation should be read differently than one written to those already committed.

Setting the Internal Context Genre In examining a theological writing (or any writing for that matter) the first question that ought to be asked and answered is what type of writing is it? A poem, a treatise, even a biblical commentary can all be written to encourage one type of belief or behavior and discourage another, but the manner in which an author chooses to communicate that hope is important. Across the Reformation era, we have many, many different types of written and oral communication and not all of them can be regarded equally. A sermon, for example, is meant to be heard and is often written in a very short time frame. We have, for example, more than 1,500 sermons from John Calvin’s lifetime of preaching. A sermon can tell us a great deal. For example, it can tell us how a theologian approached a wide and often less literate audience. What one should not do, however, is assess it on an equal standing with a learned treatise that someone worked months or even years on. In Martin Luther’s collected works, one can find six volumes of what are now called Tischreden or Table Talks. These are Luther’s musings and discussions at the community dinner table in his home. Students jotted down every word from the esteemed professor. As ought to be clear, we should look at these with great skepticism. First, because they do not come from his hand but from another’s notes. Did the students capture Luther’s utterances word for word or merely try to capture the flavor of the moment? We cannot be sure. Second, even if we were 9

9780567033604_Ch01_Final_txt_print.indd 9

12/19/2000 9:52:42 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

sure of their exact correspondence to his statements, they would still require careful consideration because we all say things we later regret, we phrase things awkwardly at times, and frankly we all have moments of bad judgment. All of these come through in Luther’s Tischreden, but few of us would ever wish to be judged on our every utterance. As with the Tischreden, martyrologies from the sixteenth century ought to be read with some circumspection. Martyrologies were not written as objective news reports. They were meant to persuade. They ought to be read in that light. Similarly, cheap paper pamphlets poured off of presses across Europe during the sixteenth century. Many of these were written in a provocative voice because they were designed to be sold and, then as now, the scandalous and inflammatory sold well. Purpose When people write editorials in the New York Times they do so for a reason. Often it is easy for us to discern that reason because we are fully immersed in the same context as the writer of the editorial. For example, we know when a paper endorses a particular candidate for president of the United States in late October that they are hoping to sway people to vote for that particular candidate on the first Tuesday in November. Discerning the reasons why someone wrote a treatise or theological work 500 years ago is more difficult, but is essential to understanding what a treatise meant then and what meaning it might still have today. Often the author will tell you directly why he or she is writing. Here it is always good to be a bit skeptical. From the information that you have gleaned from examining the social and historical context of a work and the events happening within the person’s life at the time of writing, you might see different reasons than the author saw. Or, the author could simply be hiding his or her intent under more palatable reasons. This does not necessarily make the author wrong; many of us write for a whole host of reasons some of which we recognize immediately, some we see only with hindsight, and of some we might remain forever ignorant. A thorough investigation of a theological work takes into consideration that something more might have motivated the theologian than the stated purpose of the work. Theological Sources Sixteenth-century theologians, regardless of confessional background, believed that they were presenting the true Christian faith and doctrine. Since the early Church, the so-called Vincentian Canons had helped theologians and churchmen discern what was truly Christian theology versus superstitious speculation. According to Vincent of Lerins, the Christian faith is that “which has been believed everywhere, always and by all.” Innovation was not a thing prized by Reformation-era theologians. In order to demonstrate, 10

9780567033604_Ch01_Final_txt_print.indd 10

12/19/2000 9:52:42 AM

Studying and Writing about the Reformation

therefore, the accuracy of their claims, they often appealed to earlier Christian writers and scriptural authority. Augustine, in particular, played an enormous role in many sixteenth-century theological debates. It is helpful when examining the authorities quoted by your author to go to the citation yourself. Do you think that Augustine, or Bernard of Clairvaux, or St Ambrose actually supports the position that Luther, or Calvin, or Zwingli says that he does? As with Reformation theologians, nearly all of the major medieval and patristic theologians of the Church have had their works collected and published in English.8 The most widely available collection of patristic theology remains the three-fold collection from the nineteenth century: The AnteNicene Fathers (10 vols) and the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers (which has two series in it, both of which have 14 volumes). These collections are in most college libraries and can be used for free at the Christian Classics Ethereal Library. More recently, the Fathers of the Church: A New Translation has nearly 200 volumes already published and includes all the major patristic theologians and intends to continue the translation project into the medieval era. Included in this collection already are many works by Augustine, Ambrose, Chrysostom, Cyprian, Gregory the Great, and Tertullian. Other sources to consider include the collected works of Bernard of Clairvaux.9 Bernard was an immensely important medieval exegete and theologian and he remained popular throughout the Reformation. Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae has been completely translated and exhaustively commentated upon in the so-called Blackfriars’ Edition.10 Though many Reformation theologians ultimately rejected much of Thomas’ theological outlook and his presuppositions, many of them were also educated using Thomas and so he remains an important source for examining theology in the Reformation era. Peter Lombard’s Sentences is now available in an excellent new edition translated by Guilo Silano.11 Finally, if you wish to focus specifically on the ways in which Reformation theologians used, built upon, or rejected patristic and medieval theologians you ought to begin that journey by carefully reading Irena Backus’ The Reception of the Fathers in the West. Biblical Sources Scripture was centrally important to almost all sixteenth-century theologians—on both sides of the Catholic/Protestant divide. Most theological treatises, sermons, and even personal correspondence will be filled with scriptural allusions. These brief allusions are a testament to the age’s close association with the Bible as a normative and illustrative guide for life, but are less important to the work of examining the treatise. What are important are the scriptural references that are lifted up by the author as evidence supporting his or her position. These references ought to be examined closely. Go to the 11

9780567033604_Ch01_Final_txt_print.indd 11

12/19/2000 9:52:42 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Bible itself and read the section referenced in context. Ask the question—what greater issue did the theologian raise by explicitly citing this text? If possible, go to the original language and look there as well. If that is not a possibility, the next best thing to do will be to look at one or more of the English versions published in the sixteenth century. The most significant editions of the English Bible in the Reformation era were the 1539 The Byble in Englyshe (or the Great Bible), the 1560 The Bible and Holy Scriptures (or the Geneva Bible), the 1609 The Holy Bible Faithfully Translated (or the Rheims-Douai Bible), and the 1611 Holy Bible (or the King James Version). The Great Bible was translated by Miles Coverdale at the behest of King Henry VIII and Thomas Cromwell. It was translated from Greek and Hebrew and is one of the finest early vernacular Bibles of the sixteenth century. The Geneva Bible has a decided Reformed perspective throughout and its annotations are often very helpful guides to the opinion of Reformed theologians on a particular text. The Rheims-Douai Bible was produced by Roman Catholics from the Latin Vulgate and attempts to be as literal a translation as possible. The King James Version has exercised an immense—even immeasurable—effect on the English language. As with the Great Bible and Geneva, it was translated from the Greek and Latin. Looking at how these different versions translate a text upon which your theologian places some authority will help determine a wider theological assessment of that text. Make sure to note any translation differences between the Bibles. Also, be sure to note any textual helps, such as marginal comments or chapter introductions. Once you have a sense of the text itself, the next step is to look at how your author viewed the text in other places. If he, like Calvin, wrote a commentary on that text your search will be short and often fruitful. If he did not, your task is more complex but not impossible. Many collected works contain indexes that list out major scriptural references and these ought to be consulted. The search need not be exhaustive to be profitable. By looking at a few other places where he or she uses the same scripture, one can quickly get a sense of what the main themes and perspectives on that scriptural reference was. If you wish to move more deeply into this type of research, often called reception history, you might also look at how others in the sixteenth century looked at the same text. A more difficult but also very fruitful work for a longer project would be to look at how the text in question was understood in the medieval era. Here the task is greatly complicated because many of the great medieval exegetical works—such as Nicholas of Lyra, the Glossa Ordinaria, and Peter Comestor’s Historia Scholastica are not available in English translation and often not in even a critical edition. Assessing the argument and its impact Once you have completed your research on the external and internal aspects of your theological treatise you should begin to create an overall assessment 12

9780567033604_Ch01_Final_txt_print.indd 12

12/19/2000 9:52:42 AM

Studying and Writing about the Reformation

of the work. To do this it is most helpful to create an outline of the author’s argument. How does the author construct his or her argument? What are the major points of the treatise? What key motifs are repeated and utilized? What seems to be most important to the author? What is least important? Has the author made any preconceived judgments that ought to be examined? Once this is done, it is time to actually begin assessing the argument’s persuasiveness and its impact. To do this it is helpful to take a few last steps. First, taking a look at other works on similar subjects by your author will help signal the degree to which your identified themes were important to your theologian over time. Looking at how his or her contemporaries reacted to his work can also provide very illuminating perspectives. Sometimes it is one’s adversaries who see one most clearly, rather than one’s supporters and so looking not just at followers but antagonists can be very helpful. To determine a theologian’s impact, it is also important to ask about his or her legacy. Are there aspects of your theologian’s work that remained important in theological debates and discussions a century later? You may even find some that are still consulted today. Finally, depending upon your context and the class for which you are writing, offering an assessment of your theologian’s utility for theology or the church today can be an entirely appropriate discussion with which to conclude a paper. In this section, you ought to be careful to explain why and how you believe your theologian or theme remain important while simultaneously remaining cognizant of the vast differences in time, social location, and cultural background that lie between those of the sixteenth century and the life of the church today.

13

9780567033604_Ch01_Final_txt_print.indd 13

12/19/2000 9:52:42 AM

2

Human Nature, the Fall, and the Will Robert Kolb

“The function of the human being is the active exercise of the soul’s faculties in conformity with rationality . . . What is good for the human being is the active exercise of the soul’s faculties in conformity with excellence or virtue . . .”1 Aristotle defined what it means to be human without any reference to a Creator; the human being stands alone and defines humanity by action, by performance of virtue. As thirteenth-century Christian theologians forged a synthesis of biblical teaching with Aristotle’s framework for thinking, the presuppositional skeleton which gave their exposition and application of Scripture form had to come to terms with his view of the human creature, in which no personal Creator-God played a role. According to Aristotle, human beings find their identity, worth, and dignity in their own thinking and acting. Obviously, no medieval theologian who integrated the Stagirite with Moses, Isaiah, John, or Paul left God out of the discussion of what it means to be human. All believed that to one degree or another sinful human beings are creatures of God and dependent on God’s grace to attain His favor and to function as God-pleasing human beings. But they also defined humanity fundamentally in terms of human action, the proper performance of God’s law, rather than identifying the essence of being human as the relationship of love, trust, or obedience between the Creator and His human creatures. Augustine’s framework for theological anthropology shaped most of his medieval successor’ thinking. He lived long before Aristotle’s thought had been rediscovered in the Christian West. However, within the environment of the late Roman Empire he, too, thought of foundational human identity in terms of the performance of good works that God’s free grace enables Christians to perform. He analyzed what it means to be human in four stages of human history: (1) before the Law (before the fall into sin); (2) under the Law (in sin); (3) under grace (the sanctified believer); and (4) in peace (in heaven).2 Because Protestant reformers by and large were concerned first of all with faithful biblical interpretation and pastoral care, they made little use of the first and last categories in the division of theological anthropology made by Augustine. Critical for their viewpoint was Augustine’s emphasis on 14

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 14

12/19/2000 9:53:24 AM

Human Nature, the Fall, and the Will

God’s grace. They shaped their understanding of humanity in the shadow of this concept of God as fundamentally gracious. To varying degrees, reformers of the sixteenth century echoed Luther’s insistence that the heart of human righteousness in God’s sight has nothing to do with works, which are the necessary result but neither the cause nor final proof of human righteousness as children of God. Even Tridentine statements on what it means to be human reflected this Augustinian foundation. In a brief article on anthropologies of the Reformation movements it seems best to concentrate on a few key figures. This essay focuses on the thought of Martin Luther, John Calvin, and the Council of Trent regarding what it means to be human.

The Lutheran Tradition When Martin Luther was called to explain his teaching to his Augustinian brothers at their chapter meeting in Heidelberg in April 1518, he chose to set forth his theological method rather than discuss issues of reform that had propelled him to center stage on the German scene with the publication of his Ninety-Five Theses on indulgences the previous autumn. His developing definition of what it means to be human was beginning to emerge at the time. The “Heidelberg Theses” make it clear that Luther rejected all speculation about the nature of God apart from His revelation to His human creatures; Luther could not think about God without thinking of him in relationship to humanity. Likewise, by defining trust in God and His Word as the center of human existence (in a manner not unlike Erik Erikson 450 years later3), Luther implicitly claimed that one cannot think of the human being apart from this relationship between God and the creature he shaped by breathing the breath of life into dust (Gen. 2.7)—as Luther sketched the creation of humanity in preaching and lecturing on this passage in 1523 and 1535.4

Luther’s Definition of the Human Creature Luther’s catechisms operated with this view of God and humanity. As a handbook for Christian living, the Small Catechism explained the first commandment, “we are to fear, love, and trust in God above all things.”5 Human creatures depend completely on God; they were created “out of pure, fatherly, and divine goodness and mercy, without any merit or worthiness of mine at all,” with an integral place in God’s whole Creation: “God created me together with all that exists.”6 Luther emphasized God’s nature as a speaking Creator. He is in constant conversation with His human creatures. He creates community with them and among them as He establishes His relationship on the basis of His speaking and the human response of trust. In his Large Catechism 15

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 15

12/19/2000 9:53:24 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Luther defined “god” as “the term for that to which we are to look for all good and in which we are to find refuge in all need. Therefore, to have a god is nothing else than to trust and believe in that one with your whole heart.”7 In treating the phrase “in the image of God” in his lectures on Genesis (1535), Luther rejected the Aristotelian legacy, also propagated by Augustine, which defined that image as the powers of the soul, the memory, the mind or intellect, and the will. He insisted that being in God’s image and being in His similitude (Gen. 1.26) are synonyms, rejecting the idea that similitude consists of the gifts of grace that perfect the image. For God’s image in humankind as he created human beings needed no improvement but was “good,” Luther contended: perfect and complete as created. Luther distanced himself from assorted “trinitarian” interpretations of the concept of God’s image, such as the association of memory with hope, intellect with faith, and the will with love, or of memory with God’s power, intellect with His wisdom, and the will with His justice. These ideas, learned from scholastic instructors, might not be wrong, but they were unfruitful. He objected much more to associated ideas of the freedom of the human will to turn itself from sin to God.8 That contradicted his very conception of the Creator and His absolute power, also learned from his Ockhamist instructors. Being created in God’s image was, for Luther, “a singular work of God.” Beyond their possession of the acutest senses of body and mind, the clearest thinking, the best memory, and the most upright will, human beings were created to enjoy perfect peace, without fear of death or any worries, because they knew God and believed that he was good.9 Soon after his appearance in Heidelberg, Luther formulated the foundational statement of his anthropology in two brief treatises: Discourse on the Three Kinds of Righteousness (1518) was refined in Discourse on Two Kinds of Righteousness the next year (1519). In 1518 he distinguished what he would later call “civil righteousness,” the actions of people that conform to God’s will apart from faith in Christ, from “iustitia essentialis” or “iustitia aliena” (the essential righteousness that human beings receive from another [aliena], from outside themselves), and the “iustitia propria” (the righteousness they perform themselves on the basis of faith in Christ).10 It is confusing to translate these two terms as “alien” and “proper” righteousness. In Luther’s mature thought, “alien” or—as Luther later designated it—“passive” righteousness was bestowed on Adam and Eve by God. Sinners can attain it only through faith in Christ and on the basis of his death and resurrection. It is the core identity of the person, given by God through His creative act or His recreative act, being born again. “Proper” righteousness is, in Luther’s later usage, “active;” it is the performance that flows from the identity given by God as creator and redeemer, in the activities that fulfill God’s plan or law for humanity. He dubbed this distinction of two kinds of righteousness “our theology” in 1531.11 16

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 16

12/19/2000 9:53:24 AM

Human Nature, the Fall, and the Will

Luther did retain respect and gratitude for the civil righteousness of those outside the Christian faith and also for the use of reason by all, even if sin had tarnished the effectiveness of its exercise.12 However, his preaching aimed to deal primarily with the sins that disrupted human life and with the guilt that plagued those who recognized the hopelessness of their situation apart from God. He also spent a good deal of time in his sermons instructing hearers on how to live a life of new obedience in actual righteousness. All Christian theologians have found some place for God’s grace in their speaking of salvation. But most medieval theologians viewed grace as a means by which God enables sinners to perform good works, and these good works constitute what enables His human creatures to find favor in God’s sight. Luther’s instructors, students of Gabriel Biel, had repeated the Ockhamist insistence that “from purely natural powers” sinners must do their best (“what is in them”), and though imperfect, these works and their “congruent” merit win grace to empower these sinners to do truly good works, which they present to God as “condignent” or truly worthy merit, sufficient for salvation.13 Luther recoiled from this view, but he retained Ockham’s emphasis on God’s almighty power, which in total divine freedom determined reality. Therefore, his concept of the almighty Creator led logically to his conviction that Adam and Eve were created human without condition or any contribution of their own. They received their identity as God’s beloved children as a gift, without any involvement or action of their own, and this identity naturally produced good works. Likewise, Luther’s view of justification as God’s act of resurrection from the death of sin on the basis of Christ’s death and resurrection (Rom. 4.25) defined human obedience as the result, and in no way the cause, of the forgiven sinner’s righteousness before God. Luther’s anthropology therefore defined humanity in two dimensions. One took form in love toward the neighbor, demonstrated in the fulfillment of God’s commands within the horizontal realm of life. The other took form in child-like trust in the heavenly Father, from whom life and identity come as a gift. It can be said, against popular conceptions of his thought, that Luther indeed believed that human beings are righteous by their works, but only in their relationship to other creatures of God. At their core, in their identity as God’s children, they are totally dependent on the one who created them and re-creates them, as the Holy Spirit speaks a new Word of Creation in absolution and other forms of God’s Word of Gospel.

Luther’s Understanding of the Fall into Sin As creatures of God, human beings, Luther believed, were bound to their Creator and dependent on him, but nonetheless were, in the mystery of humanity as God’s creature, held responsible for being the creatures God had 17

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 17

12/19/2000 9:53:24 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

made them to be, that is, creatures who loved God, one another, and all he had made. However, God’s human creatures find themselves in revolt against their Creator. Luther despaired of solving the mystery of the fall into sin; “we must learn with Job that God cannot be called to account nor forced to explain to us his reasons for doing what he did or permitting something to happen.” 14 Luther attempted to construct no theodical justification of God; God justified himself over against sinners simply by being God but also by coming in human flesh to forgive sinners and restore them to righteousness through his own death and resurrection.15 In commenting on Genesis 3 in 1535, Luther revealed the view of sin that had begun to inform his theology almost two decades earlier, that parishioners of Wittenberg heard from the pulpit in 1523 when he preached on this text.16 His description of the Fall places it firmly within the eschatological battle which ranges God’s truth against Satan’s lie. Although the professor put complete responsibility for their rejection of God’s lordship upon the human creature, he insisted that the Devil’s deception initiated this break in the human relationship with God. “The serpent directs its assault against the image of God itself and the highest powers, which were uncorrupted by their very nature. It seeks to pervert the loftiest worship which God had ordained . . . It attacks [God’s] Word.”17 And Adam and Eve broke trust with the God who had created community with them through his conversation. Satan’s intention was to rob them of God’s Word and to trust in his falsehood. “The source of all sins is the failure to trust; once he had ripped away the Word and twisted it out of shape, nothing was easier for him. . . . Indeed, the source of all sin is failure to trust. It is doubt, departing from the Word. Because the world is full of [doubt], it remains in idolatry, denies God’s truth, and fashions a new god.”18 From this unbelief and doubt grow all other sins; the failure to trust is what Luther called “the root sin” or “inherited sin,” his favorite synonyms for the medieval term “original sin.” Citing Romans 5.12–19, Luther traced all sin, the subjection of all people to death and the Devil, back to Adam’s disobedience, and the fruits of this are all evil works that follow, “such as unbelief, false belief, idolatry, being without fear of God, presumption, despair, blindness, and in short, not knowing or honoring God,” all sins against the First Commandment and thus a description of the root of sin in every individual sinner. To this list he immediately added the sinful activities against others that follow because of this root sin, according to the other commands of the Decalogue: “lying, swearing [falsely] by God’s name, not praying or calling on God’s name, neglect of God’s Word, being disobedient to parents, murdering, behaving promiscuously, stealing, deceiving, etc.” Whereas all sinners can recognize what is wrong in their actions, they cannot recognize that the origin of sin lies in their failure to trust their Creator: “this inherited sin has caused such a deep, evil corruption of nature that reason does not 18

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 18

12/19/2000 9:53:25 AM

Human Nature, the Fall, and the Will

comprehend it; rather it must be believed on the basis of revelation in the Scriptures. . . .”19 Luther traced all sins back to that original, root, failure to “fear, love, and trust in God above all things,” his explanation to the First Commandment in the Small Catechism, where he explained all the other commandments by beginning with “we are to fear and love God . . .” so that we avoid specific sinful actions and instead perform God’s will as expressed in each commandment.20 In a sinful world, God’s law, in Scripture and in human hearts, chiefly serves to reveal this sin and bring people to repentance. Luther’s key hermeneutical principle, the distinction of law and Gospel, presumed that sinners must be brought to the conviction that they are living separated from God and thus from true life, so that they repent, that is, turn from false gods, so that they may receive the forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation which the Gospel of Christ’s death and resurrection bestows. The call to repentance addresses the sins that flow from the root sin of failure to trust God, to be sure, but fundamentally the baptized also must come to recognize their failure to fear, love, and trust in God as the core of their rebellion against God and His Word, His plan for human living in His Word.21

Luther’s Teaching on Bound Choice As he fled the Ockhamist teaching that he could only attain grace by first “doing his best with his purely natural powers,” Luther found comfort in reliance on God’s unconditional and undeserved favor, on God’s giving His grace because of Christ’s death and resurrection. In 1518, he had contended that “free choice after [the fall into] sin is only a phrase, and if someone does what is in him [does his best], he commits moral sin.”22 In 1520, he retracted this statement in his Assertion of All Articles that stood under papal condemnation: “I was wrong in saying that free choice before grace is a reality only in name. I should have said simply: free choice is in reality a fiction, or a term without reality. For no one has it in his power to think a good or bad thought but everything (as Wyclif’s article condemned at Constance rightly teaches) happens by absolute necessity.”23 Four years later, in his Diatribe on Free Choice, Desiderius Erasmus found this the perfect point at which to prove that he was not Luther’s ally. Their dispute caused amazingly few ripples in the flood of Luther’s reform; many of Erasmus’s disciples supported Luther’s position against the Dutch humanist.24 It gave Luther the opportunity to respond in his De servo arbitrio (On Bound Choice)25 on the subject that provided an underlying support for the core of his understanding of human reality, both before and after the Fall into sin. In his Small Catechism Luther confessed that he was unable by his own understanding or strength to believe in Christ. The Holy Spirit calls believers 19

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 19

12/19/2000 9:53:25 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

through the Gospel, illuminates them, sanctifies them, and preserves them in the true faith within the context of the Church.26 Bound Choice teaches that in relationship to God human beings, even as creatures, simply received God’s grace. Adam and Eve had no probationary period in Eden to earn their humanity; they had performed nothing to win their creation. Their allegiance to God was a gift, not something they had created for themselves. Under sin the choices (arbitrium) that the will (voluntas) makes in relationship to the core trust that determines life are bound by Satan, and sinners have to rely on freely given, unconditional God’s favor alone. Indeed, Luther taught that the sinful human will is active; that axiom was part of his understanding of the integrity of the responsible human creature. But the will is compelled by sinful nature to fashion false gods and to manipulate God’s other creatures for its own benefit and purposes rather than to serve them, as he created them to do.27 Nonetheless, Luther conceived of the almighty Creator as the sovereign Lord and ultimate cause of all that exists, and he longed for the certainty of God’s love that he could never have by evaluating his own attempts to please God. In 1525 this led him to assert that all things, including all human actions, happen by absolute necessity according to God’s will, against Ockhamist views of contingency that rested human destiny in human decisions and performance of God’s will. He never turned to the concept of absolute necessity again and probably had it mind when he warned students in 1541 that they should not be led into false speculation about their salvation through a misunderstanding of On Bound Choice.28 He sought in doctrinal synonyms to affirm that sinners must be turned to God because they cannot on their own turn to God. In the two decades he lived after the publication of On Bound Choice he focused on the assurance given by the universality of God’s will to draw all creatures to Himself29 and His promise of forgiveness and life to individual believers in their use of his Word in oral, written, and sacramental form.30 Luther’s On Bound Choice is often seen as a treatise on “predestination,” which is the understanding of how God works that is complementary to the concept of the freedom of the human will, the anthropological side of the same question. But the term “predestination” occurs seldom in On Bound Choice, and when it does, it refers to God’s general providential plan, of which His plan for salvation of His chosen people is only one part.31 Luther’s underlying objective in speaking of God’s unconditional choice of those who would come to faith was to provide the comfort of the Gospel to troubled consciences. Therefore, although some scholars have read a few passages in On Bound Choice otherwise, he did not teach a doctrine of predestination to reprobation, not in 1525, and certainly not thereafter.32 He was not concerned about finding a logical solution to the problem posed by what he regarded as the biblical teaching that God is totally responsible for everything in His world 20

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 20

12/19/2000 9:53:25 AM

Human Nature, the Fall, and the Will

and its concomitant insistence that God holds human beings responsible for what they do and what they fail to do as the creatures they were made to be. Luther employed what Rune Söderlund calls a “broken” doctrine of predestination.33 This teaching speaks of believers as those whose relationship with God is anchored in the Gospel which assures them that God has committed himself to them apart from anything they have done, but then expects them to exercise mind and will in trust toward God and obedience to His commands. The proper distinction of law and Gospel guided Luther’s application of the doctrine of election and its synonyms. Luther’s radical departure from the anthropology of late medieval scholastic theology and of the contemporary monastic tradition, often shaped by its mystical elements, represents a well-considered critique on two ways of thinking which he had experienced and on which he had leaned for comfort and a sense of identity. He assumed and altered Ockhamism’s emphasis on God’s almighty power as Creator; he transformed its emphasis on human responsibility by defining the exercise of this responsibility as a result, not a cause, of God’s re-creative action in the forgiveness of sins, and he deepened the monastic-mystical understanding of dependence on God and humility before him to a rhythm of repentance and trust that defined the course of daily life and the fundamental essence of the sinners whom God had chosen to be His own people.

Luther’s Followers on What It Means To Be Human, Sin, and the Free Will Although differences in expression and emphasis certainly exist between Luther and his closest associate in reform, his Wittenberg colleague, Philip Melanchthon (1497–1560), Melanchthon did strive throughout his life to affirm that human trust in God defines human life, that sin has totally corrupted sinners, and that God’s grace is ultimately responsible for salvation. His handbook for interpreting Paul’s epistle to the Romans, the Commonplaces (Loci communes rerum theologicarum) (1521), contained a radical affirmation of Luther’s monergism.34 His framework for Christian doctrine emerged from his reading of Romans; as Luther’s colleague, that meant reading it in the context of distinguishing law and Gospel. Therefore, his outline did not include an article on the topic of what it means to be human. Only the subtopic of the freedom of the will commanded his attention, as he established the integrity of the human creatures and their responsibility to trust in God and obey Him. Following that subject, he went on to treat “sin,” “God’s law,” and the Gospel of Christ. When he transformed his Loci into a textbook on biblical teaching in 1535, he expanded his treatment of what it means to be human only slightly, in articles on “creation” and “the cause of sin and contingency,” and also treated 21

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 21

12/19/2000 9:53:25 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

“predestination” although his final revisions in 1559 somewhat softened his earlier strong emphasis on the predestination of the elect to salvation.35 However, Melanchthon’s duties as the leading ecclesiastical diplomat for the Lutheran princes brought him into face-to-face contact with Roman Catholic negotiators who were accusing the Wittenberg theologians of stoic determinism. As a professor of rhetoric and dialectic he was concerned about the psychological functioning of those parishioners who would hear the sermons his students later preached. Particularly his encounters with the realities of parish life and the sinful conduct of those who had heard the Gospel drove him to be concerned about human responsibility.36 His growing emphasis on this human exercise of mind and will was always accompanied by his affirmation on God’s grace as the only source of salvation. But he and some of his students collided with the concern of others among his colleagues and students who believed that Philip and some of his adherents had compromised the responsibility of God for salvation and strayed into synergism.37 In the context of this “synergistic controversy,” one of the brightest and best of Luther’s and Melanchthon’s students, Matthias Flacius Illyricus (1520–75), employed some of Luther’s most radical expressions regarding human sinfulness in debating his colleague at the University of Jena, Viktorin Strigel (1524–69). Initially resistant to Strigel’s insistence that Aristotelian terminology be used to explore the nature of humanity and of sinfulness, Flacius finally came to defend the proposition that sinners are “formally” in Satan’s image (in the Aristotelian sense of being and acting according to the form of Satan’s nature) and their formal essence or substance is original sin even though their material essence remains human, with corrupted mind and will.38 Strigel, on the other hand, estranged many with his emphasis on the role of the human will in conversion.39 The Formula of Concord rejected Flacius’s position even though it affirmed his insistence on God’s total responsibility for conversion and salvation.40 Some of Flacius’s followers defended his views against the Formula for a generation.41 Even though the Formula issued a clear statement on God’s gracious election of his own,42 Lutheran theologians continued to disagree on election and related questions.43 Their use of Aristotelian categories blunted some of Luther’s anthropological accents and insights in the dogmatic works of the seventeenth century Lutheran theologians, but fundamentally they reflected and repeated his views.44

The Reformed Tradition Ulrich Zwingli (1483–1531) shared many of Luther’s convictions regarding what it means to be human, but his works reflect some differences in perspective as well. His Ratio fidei of 1531 remained more closely tied to the Augustinian tradition in that it contended that sin is first of all love of self 22

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 22

12/19/2000 9:53:25 AM

Human Nature, the Fall, and the Will

rather than doubt of God’s Word. Although God could have simply destroyed humankind after the fall, he placed sinners in a state of slavery and punished sin with death. At its core Zwingli’s understanding of what it means to be human defined humanity in terms of human action or performance, that is conformity to God’s law (Rom. 4.15). Therefore, Zwingli defined sin as “an infraction, a crime, a foul deed,” occasions for guilt. Adam’s disobedience was a “real sin;” what Christians call “original sin” in all other human beings, since it is not an act actually committed, is “a sickness and an evil fate,” not a transgression of the Law. It brings death since slaves necessarily give birth to slaves, and death is a mark of this slavery in sin.45 Zwingli placed human history completely in God’s hands and held that God freely determines all things; His plan before Creation depended on no human impulse. God’s goodness embraces both His just judgment on sin and His mercy toward sinners. His election of his own determined before the foundations of the world who would receive the benefits of Christ’s sacrifice, which satisfied God’s righteousness.46 Zwingli’s views contributed to synthesis of “Reformed” views that focused on the teaching of John Calvin, particularly in his Institutes of the Christian Religion.

Calvin’s Definition of the Human Creature From 1539 (its second edition) on, the Institutes began with the assertion that knowledge of God depends on knowledge of self. Although he stated it differently than Luther had, Calvin shared the Wittenberg professor’s conviction that God cannot be known apart from His relationship with His human creatures and that complete knowledge of humanity depends on seeing the human creature in relationship to God.47 Human creatures were made to give God honor (trust is not unimportant in Calvin’s definition of humanness but his dynamic equivalent of trust was glorifying and honoring God as God); having fallen into sin, they find themselves in relationship to God once again and give him honor only when they grasp the redeeming work of Christ.48 Calvin’s understanding of God’s providence, developed in part in the context of his polemic against ancient Greek deterministic doctrine, emphasized God’s love and care for His human creatures.49 The 1559 edition of the Institutes introduced Calvin’s first extensive discussion of human nature. He rejected ancient and medieval speculation regarding the term “image of God,” defining it simply as the orderliness of the soul and Adam’s relationship with God that acknowledged his creaturely status.50 Knowledge of God constitutes this image of God; from it proceed righteousness and holiness. Reflecting God’s image, human reason led and governed the soul and the will, which followed the instruction of reason and shaped its desires according to rational understanding, holding affections in order.51 23

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 23

12/19/2000 9:53:25 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Because God created human creatures in His image, and because He is faithful to His original decree for humanity, He loves them and preserves them even after their fall into sin.52 Against some late medieval Aristotelian thinkers and others who denied the immortality of the soul, Calvin focused above all on the soul, maintaining that the soul has substantial existence distinct from the body. Reflecting a platonic presuppositional framework, he argued that only the soul, not the body, was created in the image of God; the body has become a prison from which the soul is freed through death. Calvin rejected every hint of pantheism; the soul is a creature, fashioned by God, and totally distinct from him. In the resurrection of the dead, body and soul will be reunited; heavenly existence embraces both.53

Calvin’s Understanding of the Fall into Sin Calvin regarded unbelief, as contempt for God’s command, as that which corrupted the first parents, from whom this defect spread to the whole human race and fosters in each human creature original sin, the act of rebellion that causes disorder into God’s harmonious universe.54 With Augustine, Calvin held that human arrogance led to disbelief in God’s Word, that is, disobedience of His command. He labeled arrogance and ingratitude the first fruits of Adam’s doubt. Adam’s sin is passed on to all humankind (Rom. 5.12–19).55 Calvin regarded this inherited sin as truly sin on the basis of Romans 5.12; the entire nature of children already in the womb is sinful. In all people this sin produces its fruits, including adultery, fornication, stealing, hate, murder, drunkenness, and other vices. Sin’s corruption permeates the entire human being; it does not become human nature, but it corrupts it thoroughly.56 As a result of the fall human beings fell into enmity among themselves and with the rest of God’s Creation. For the failure to hearken to God introduced a “flood of iniquity” into human living.57 Adam’s and Eve’s turning their backs on God corrupted the soul completely, discarding faith, love for God and other human creatures, and the zeal for holiness that had marked their lives. They lost their ability to recognize God.58 They remained “the most illustrious ornament and glory of the earth,” a microcosm in which a pale reflection of what God had given at Creation can be found. Calvin maintained that even in sin human reason and learning can accomplish much.59 However, the corruption of the soul has created a gulf between God and sinners that only God can bridge. The corrupted will is active, Calvin insisted, but enslaved to sin and thus unable to move toward the good. Only by God’s grace can it be redirected to honor God.60 In the midst of his assessment of the power of evil that permeates the sinner’s life, Calvin firmly clung to his belief in God’s providence, the bridle 24

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 24

12/19/2000 9:53:25 AM

Human Nature, the Fall, and the Will

which reins in the forces of evil to preserve some measure of order, as that which guides the course of events in His Creation. But he did admit that often God’s goodness does not seem to be present in the course of human history. He did not attempt an overarching theodical solution to the problem of evil anymore than Luther had.61

Calvin’s Teaching on the Freedom of the Will and its Bondage to Sin Sin deprives human beings of the freedom of the will and subjects them to a miserable servitude.62 To assert the freedom of the will deprives God of His appropriate honor, as the only hope for sinners.63 Calvin’s strong belief in God’s sovereignty and his exercise of his loving providence expressed itself in his view of predestination and reprobation. Calvin distinguished “compulsion” from “necessity” and found that while the human will, under the yoke of Satan, necessarily sins, it is not compelled to do so. It does so willingly, with full consent, out of its corrupted nature. Calvin cited Augustine’s illustration, which Luther also used, of the horse or beast of burden being ridden by either God or Satan. Sinners are blinded (2 Cor. 4.4); the Devil is at work in them (Eph. 2.2). However, Calvin asserted, God is always in control; He uses Satan’s machination in the service of His ultimate hegemony over His Creation. In this context, Calvin rejected the distinction he attributed to Augustine, which the Lutheran Formula of Concord would later adopt, that God foreknows all things, and therefore evil, but he is not actually active and at work when evil happens. Calvin affirmed that God is almighty and thus at work in all happenings in His universe, mentioning the Bible’s claim that God had not only withdrawn His support from sinners but also hardened their hearts or blinded them (Deut. 2.30; Ps. 105.20). Calvin interpreted this kind of divine action to God’s just punishment of sin, insisting at the same time that God does not cause evil. But He uses the willing sinful heart as an instrument of His judgment against Israel, for instance (Ezel. 12.13, 17.20, Jer. 50.23).64 Calvin taught that even in those human decisions which are in themselves neither good nor evil, but rather direct the corporal activities of the human creature, God remains in sovereign control. In an implicit criticism of Luther’s and Melanchthon’s view that the human will exercises some degree of freedom in making decisions in the horizontal realm of life, Calvin stated, “The power of God’s providence goes so far that things take place as God foresaw them as good, and the human will must conform itself to this plan.”65 Calvin believed that this is clear from daily experience, and he rejected interpretations of Bible passages that seem to speak of human exercise of responsibility apart from God’s omnipotent exercise of His providence.66 The human will under sin is completely corrupted and without power to practice the good and give God His due honor. 25

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 25

12/19/2000 9:53:25 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

This did not prevent Calvin from emphasizing new obedience that is made possible through faith in Christ under the power and direction of the Holy Spirit. Without the illumination of the Holy Spirit the human heart is so vain and presumptuous that it could never accept God’s truth. The Spirit purifies the mind from its sinful blindness and turns the human will to assent and trust in God’s Word. The Spirit’s indwelling guides the believer’s actions (2 Tim. 1.14).67 Faith produces love for God and other human beings.68 Selfdenial marks the practice of true humanity; God bestows the ability to deny oneself for the sake of the neighbor because he directs the believer’s gaze toward himself. Part of this self-denial consists of bearing the cross; suffering for others strengthens faith, patience, and obedience.69 Calvin’s primary concern focused on the acknowledgment of God’s sovereign Lordship. However, he did not ignore the integrity of humanity as expressed in new obedience, while he above all strove to secure the consolation of believers by grounding their hope of salvation completely in God’s plan for their lives, executed in Christ.

Calvin’s Followers on What It Means To Be Human, Sin, and the Free Will Even before his death (1564) Calvin’s followers and allies had begun to issue formal confessions of their faith to identify themselves in their various societal contexts. They paid relatively little attention to human nature before the fall. In the Second Helvetic Confession (composed in 1562/published in revised form in 1566) Heinrich Bullinger (1504–75), Zwingli’s successor in Zurich, defined the original condition of human creatures as being “in the image of God, in righteousness and holiness of the truth, good and upright.” They were able not to sin.70 The Heidelberg Catechism (1563) described the image of God as “in true righteousness and holiness, so that human creatures properly recognized God as their Creator, loved him with their whole hearts, lived with him in eternal bliss, and gave adoration and praise.”71 Bullinger defined sin as an “inborn corruption of humanity from our first parents,” which immersed sinners in depraved desires that produce “every kind of iniquity, distrust and hatred of God, contempt for him.” All are afflicted by this original sin, and it causes death. Fault for sin lies in no way with God, Bullinger insisted.72 The Scottish Confession of John Knox (1560) stated that original sin had obliterated the image of God, and its contempt for God made all Adam’s descendents hostile to God, Satan’s slave, under sin’s control, and condemned to eternal death.73 Bullinger described human beings as filled with unrighteousness, as they follow the Devil, the father of lies (John 8.44). When Scripture speaks of God’s doing something evil, that is not to be understood, Bullinger argued, as if human creatures are not actually 26

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 26

12/19/2000 9:53:25 AM

Human Nature, the Fall, and the Will

performing the evil. It means rather that “God permits and does not prevent it according to his just judgment.”74 Bullinger echoed Calvin’s and Luther’s insistence that sinners retain reason and will even though they are different— the intellect obscured, the will bound to serve sin, willingly. Human sinners are not compelled by God or Satan but act on their own, following their own desires into sin. But they have lost the ability to do what is truly good in God’s sight unless the Holy Spirit comes to move them (1 Cor. 2.14).75 The Heidelberg Catechism asked, “Did God not act unjustly toward human beings in demanding from them what they are unable to do?” “No: for God created human beings so that they could keep the law. The [first] man and all his descendents, provoked by the devil, lost this gift through willful disobedience.”76 Bullinger further taught that the Holy Spirit regenerates sinners, empowering them to exercise their wills again in a godly manner. The reborn are active, not passive, because the Holy Spirit enables their wills to love and serve God. They continue to battle with sin and evil in their lives, but they do so as genuine human creatures, exercising free choice under the power of the Holy Spirit.77 The Heidelberg Catechism labeled the life which the Holy Spirit fosters in believers “thankfulness.” The Catechism maintained that the Holy Spirit restores believers to the image of God so that they will practice gratitude in a God-pleasing way of life, praising God and loving their neighbors.78 Although the doctrine of predestination is often described as the central, even controlling, doctrine of Reformed Orthodoxy, this was certainly not the case into the early seventeenth century.79 The question of the integrity of the human creature under sin troubled some of Calvin’s followers, particularly in the Netherlands, where controversy broke out between Jacob Arminius (1560–1609), pastor in Amsterdam and professor in Leiden, and his colleagues, particularly Franciscus Gomarus (1563–1641), when Arminius mitigated the predominant view represented by Gomarus, that God had exercised His sovereign will in electing some to salvation and designating others to eternal damnation in a decree of reprobation. Influenced by his study of medieval scholastics and seeking to assure his hearers of their salvation, Arminius held that the free will cannot initiate faith and salvation but can resist the grace that does bring faith and salvation to the elect. He taught that eternal election to salvation is conditional upon acceptance of the gift of faith and thus that the will does play a critical role in the salvation of those who come to faith. The will can turn a believer decisively and permanently away from God.80 The Synod of Dordrecht (1618) resolved the debate by focusing on God’s unconditional election of his own on the basis of Christ’s atonement of the elect. It taught that Adam’s sin had brought God’s wrath and the curse of death upon sinners. Created in the beginning in God’s image, with sound 27

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 27

12/19/2000 9:53:25 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

understanding of God and things spiritual in the human mind, and righteousness in will and heart, Adam was adorned with pure affections, totally holy, freely turning his will toward God. From Adam’s sin come a perversity in human judgment, rebellion against God in the will, and impurity in all affections upon all human children of Adam, who are conceived in sin as children of wrath, unable to turn to God until the Holy Spirit brings them to faith in Christ and his atonement for the elect. The Spirit’s regenerative action effects a new creation; God accomplishes this vivification of sinners without any human contribution. The human will apart from the Holy Spirit is totally bound.81

The English Confessions In the wide spectrum of anthropological views represented by English Protestant theologians of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the debates between Arminius and Gomarus were often mirrored, with individual alterations. The Articles of Doctrine issued by the reforming leadership under Thomas Cranmer in 1542, reissued by Queen Elizabeth in 1563, serve as a summary of the official view of the English Church in the sixteenth century; the Westminster Confession of 1647 indicates the state of Puritan theology in the mid-seventeenth century. Like continental confessions, neither the Forty-Two Articles nor the ThirtyNine Articles commented on the original state of human creatures but did define original sin as the vice and depravity inherited from Adam, which departed far from original righteousness. It merits God’s wrath and condemnation. Original sin remains in the reborn, who struggle against this rebelliousness in themselves. The Thirty-Nine Articles taught that after the fall natural powers are unable to prepare sinners to return to God, unable to convert themselves to faith in God. God must do so by His grace.82 The Puritan divines who headed the efforts of 1647 to draft a new confession of faith that would bring together the English and Scottish Churches followed their initial articles on the doctrine of God with an article on the predestination of both the elect and the reprobate, thus implying a strict bondage of the human will. In its fourth article the Confession taught that human creatures were created in God’s image, with His Law written in their hearts and with the power to keep the Law as well as the possibility of transgressing it on the basis of the freedom of the will. By disobeying God’s command the first human beings fell from original righteousness and communion with God, becoming “dead in sin and wholly defined in all the faculties and parts of soul and body.” The guilt of this sin was imputed and their corrupted nature was conveyed to all human posterity. This original corruption sets all people in opposition to the Good and produces transgressions, leading to death.83 28

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 28

12/19/2000 9:53:26 AM

Human Nature, the Fall, and the Will

The reactions that arose within the next generation of English thinkers led toward the Enlightenment, with its far more optimistic view of human nature and its far less serious treatment of sin and human dependence on God.

The Council of Trent Roman Catholic theology in the sixteenth century was represented by a number of currents of thought, some of them in sharp disagreement with each other, also on questions relating to human nature and the nature of sin. The decrees of the Council of Trent focused on questions raised particularly by Protestant teaching but also on issues which had divided theologians in the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. The conciliar fathers paid little attention to original righteousness in the human creature. It is clear, however, from their decree on original sin that the Tridentine theologians held that God had created human beings in “holiness and righteousness,” and that these had been lost when Adam acted against God’s command. Adam’s sin lost this holiness and righteousness for all subsequent human beings; they have contracted sinfulness “by generation,” “by propagation, not by imitation.” Sin brought death upon all human creatures.84 Original sin inheres in them; the decree of the council does not define it more specifically than this disobedience toward God. In discussing the works of unbelievers, the Council described the fallen state as a loss of innocence, having been made unclean, and “by nature children of wrath,” servants of sin and under the power of the Devil and of death.85 It is removed for the sake of Christ, apart from human effort or power, and it is removed completely. That the Tridentine fathers thought largely in terms of human performance as the heart of sin is indicated by their avowal that newborn infants do have original sin even though they “could not yet of themselves have committed any kind of sin;” the state of sin is transmitted to them from their parents. After baptismal grace has removed original sin, concupiscence remains as “a result of sin” and an inclination to sin, but is not to be “called sin in the sense of being truly and properly such in those who have been regenerated.”86 The Tridentine theologians were deeply concerned to preserve human integrity, which they saw threatened by Luther’s and Calvin’s insistence that the human will is bound, dependent on the direction of either God and Satan for the determination of its attitude and actions. Adults are “disposed” toward the righteousness bestowed by Christ when, excited and assisted by divine grace and laying hold of faith through hearing, they are freely moved toward God; believing those things to be true which have been divinely revealed and promised, and this above all, that the ungodly are justified by God through His grace, through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus, and nevertheless, knowing themselves to be sinners, by turning from fear of divine justice, 29

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 29

12/19/2000 9:53:26 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

by which they are profitably shaken, to a consideration of the mercy of God, they are raised to hope, trusting that God will be propitious for Christ’s sake, and they begin to love him as the fountain of all righteousness. And therefore they are moved against sin through a certain hatred and detestation, that is, through that penitence which must be done before baptism, and finally they resolve to receive baptism, to begin a new life, and to keep the divine commandments.87 God’s grace initiates this renewal, but its righteousness consists in the godly human performance it produces. Post-Tridentine Catholicism witnessed ongoing debates on the nature of the human creature, particularly focused on questions defining the relationship of God’s grace and the movement of the Holy Spirit to the exercise of the free will by human beings before and after the bestowal of grace: debates between followers of Michael Baius (1513–89) and Luis de Molina (1535–1600), who was also criticized by the followers of the Augustinian Cornelis Jansen (1585– 1638). Jansen taught that God’s grace is irresistible and necessary for faithful human performance of God’s will. By the early eighteenth century Jansenism had been condemned and repressed, without full resolution of the question of the relationship of nature and grace for Roman Catholic theologians.88

Conclusion Every attempt to convey and apply the content of the Bible reveals the interrelatedness of its views of God, the human creature, and a host of other doctrines. Any discussion of Reformation treatments of God’s human creature demonstrates that each reformer’s and tradition’s explanation of what it means to be human was shaped by and has implications for other parts of public teaching. All sixteenth- and seventeenth-century theologians in the Christian West struggled with defending human integrity while properly assessing and proclaiming God’s grace. This chapter has attempted to offer students of the period a glimpse of various formulations regarding humanity in the light of human responsibility and God’s activity as Creator and Redeemer.

Bibliography Primary Sources Die Bekenntnisschriften der evangelisch-lutherischen Kirche (11th edn, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1992); English Translation (ET): The Book of Concord, ed. Robert Kolb and Timothy J. Wengert. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2000. Calvin, John. Opera quae supersunt omnia, ed. Wilhelm Baum et al. Braunschweig: Schwetschke, 1861–1900. —. Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. John T. McNeil and trans. Ford Lewis Battles. Philadelphia, PA: Westminster, 1960. 30

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 30

12/19/2000 9:53:26 AM

Human Nature, the Fall, and the Will Luther, Martin. D. Martin Luthers Werke. Weimar: Böhlau, 1883–1993. —. Luther’s Works. St Louis, MO/Philadelphia, PA: Concordia/Fortress, 1958–86. Müller, E. F. K. (ed.). Die Bekenntnisschriften der reformierten Kirche (1903; Zürich: Theologische Buchhandlung, 1987); ET: Reformed Confessions of the Sixteenth Century, ed. Arthur C. Cochrane. Louisville, KY: Westminster, 2003. Preus, Hermann and Edmund Smits (eds). The Doctrine of Man in Classical Theology. Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg, 1962. Tanner, Norman, S. J. (ed.). Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, Volume Two, Trent to Vatican II. London/Washington, D.C.: Sheed & Ward/Georgetown University Press, 1990.

Secondary Sources Dieter, Theodor. Der junge Luther und Aristoteles. Eine historisch-systematische Untersuchung zum Verhältnis von Theologie und Philosophie. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2001. Gerrish, Brian. A. Grace and Reason, a Study in the Theology of Luther. Oxford: Clarendon, 1962. Kolb, Robert. Bound Choice, Election, and Wittenberg Theological Method from Martin Luther to the Formula of Concord. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2005. Kolb, Robert and Charles P. Arand. The Genius of Luther’s Theology. A Wittenberg Way of Thinking for the Contemporary Church. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2008. Muller, Richard A. Christ and the Decree, Christology and Predestination in Reformed Theology from Calvin to Perkins. 1986; Grand Rapids. MI: Baker, 1988. —. God, Creation, and Providence in the Thought of Jacob Arminius. Sources and Directions of Scholastic Protestantism in the Era of Early Orthodoxy. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1991. Schreiner, Susan E. The Theater of His Glory. Nature and the Natural Order in the Thought of John Calvin. Durham: Labyrinth, 1991. Stanglin, Keith D. Arminius on the Assurance of Salvation. The Context, Roots, and Shape of the Leiden Debate, 1603–1609. Leiden: Brill, 2007. Wengert, Timothy J. Human Freedom, Christian Righteousness. Philip Melanchthon’s Exegetical Dispute with Erasmus of Rotterdam. Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 1998.

31

9780567033604_Ch02_Final_txt_print.indd 31

12/19/2000 9:53:26 AM

3

Revelation and Scripture R. Ward Holder

Sola Scriptura! Along with sola gratia and sola fide, this was the battle cry of the Reformers of the early modern period. Sola scriptura did not mean Scripture alone in the sense of Protestants refusing to use reason or the Church’s tradition. Instead, it expressed the sense of “wholly by scripture,” that the authority for accepting the claim of being the Church defined by Jesus Christ was to live under the authority of the Scriptures that proclaimed his Gospel. The Protestant polemic demanded that the authority of the Church rest wholly upon the Scriptures, rather than on any other basis, such as tradition or philosophy. The history of the impact of this thought on sixteenth-century reforms can be read through the massive quantity of biblical interpretation that the relatively new printing presses churned out. In a way, the history of the Church at this time was the history of its interpretation of Scripture.1 Grasping how crucial the interpretation of Scripture was to the men and women of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries is a significant beginning to understanding the Reformation. However, interpretation was not the entire story. The Reformation era saw some of the most striking advances in the field of biblical scholarship that would ever occur, at least until the modern era. The recovery of Greek and Hebrew, and the publication of the Bible in its original languages, gave scholars the tools that allowed them to see exactly what the apostles and evangelists had said. Their discoveries of the ways that translation traditions and interpretive traditions had wandered away from that early model set off fire-storms of controversy. Further, the era of the Reformation represents one of the great periods of translation of the Bible into the languages of the common man and woman—Bibles were appearing in German, French, English, Dutch, and Spanish, among other languages. Before beginning, two insights that almost directly contradict each other must be acknowledged. The first of these is the importance and living power of the patristic and medieval heritage. The patristic period encompassed the first five or six centuries of the Christian era—and thinkers for hundreds of years had accepted the idea that those closest to the time of Christ possessed the purest form of the Gospel. Further, the thinkers of the medieval period, roughly spanning from the seventh through fifteenth centuries, had spent enormous effort to create systems of thought and practice out of those early 32

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 32

12/19/2000 9:54:16 AM

Revelation and Scripture

writings.2 By the end of the fifteenth century, the possibility that one could escape the intellectual and habitual force of these traditions literally did not exist. This received wisdom influenced all manner of factors in the consideration of Scripture, from very small points to the extremely important. For an example of a significant point, we must note that scholars have realized that as sixteenth-century interpreters of the Bible approached the task of commenting upon biblical passages, they generally accepted the set of questions that must be answered in the passages as an inheritance from the medieval and patristic commentators.3 The prior exegetical tradition bound the exegetical frameworks of the later thinkers. The early modern period cannot be divorced from its medieval context. On the other hand, another power balances the living energy of the medieval and patristic heritage. This is the spirit of the new learning, frequently called the Renaissance, or humanism. Humanist scholars frequently saw themselves as consciously overcoming part or all of the medieval heritage in favor of retrieving the purity of philosophical and theological classical sources. The humanists considered themselves as warriors against the barbarity of the Latin usage of the medieval thinkers, and as apostles of the true sense of the meanings of the classical pagan and Christian heritage. The humanist thinkers employed a wide range of new tools in their research. They delved into histories, seeking to get a truer sense of what the ancient authors might have meant by their words in the original historical context. They immersed themselves in study of the ancient languages of Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, so that they might understand the original grammatical forms that the historic sources used and their particular significance. The humanist thinkers saw themselves as recovering true learning, and definitely did not see their work as a continuation of the medieval heritage. Both powers existed and exercised considerable influence in the sixteenth century. The traditions of over a thousand years could not be dropped as easily as one changes clothes. The humanists themselves had been formed by a culture that was the end-product of centuries of development, and those formative traditions worked in them in ways that they themselves sometimes did not recognize. The new learning sought to redefine the very nature of scholarship, but in its very engagement with the conversation partner of the medieval ways of thinking, accepted many points from that heritage. In the same way, the humanism of the early modern period provided a backdrop of intellectual ferment that could not be denied by even the most backwardlooking thinkers. As conservative forces sought to deny the impact of the new learning, their own encounter with it brought about fresh considerations in their own ways of thinking. Together, the two forces provided some of the historical and intellectual background for the consideration of the Bible and revelation in the sixteenth century. 33

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 33

12/19/2000 9:54:16 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

The Page of Scripture Before we can begin to speak about Scripture’s interpretation, we must consider how it was presented. How Scripture was printed on the page experienced enormous change and variation in the early modern period. To modern minds, the Scriptures contain pages neatly printed in uniform columns with chapter and verse numbers; frequently the pages have paired columns. Perhaps the mental picture of the page also contains brief headings, such as “the last words of David,” or “a new covenant.” But other than that, the page is fairly clean. When a monk or priest or university student4 learning Scripture in the early 1500s thought of scripture, it was an entirely different matter. Verse numbers were an invention of the sixteenth century itself. The Dominican scholar Santes Pagnini provided the first version of the Bible that provided verse numbers through the whole text. At the beginning of the sixteenth century, biblical pages were not assumed to contain merely the words of Scripture, but regularly came complete with important aids toward understanding the text. These “para-textual” elements were varied, and offered many further methods to interpret the text. These elements were directly on the pages of Scripture—they took on a meaning greater than a separate commentary in the minds of many of the readers. The most standard of these paratextual elements was the Glossa Ordinaria. The glossa offered the text of Scripture, surrounded and interlaced with comments made by the most authoritative of the fathers of the Church. There were various versions of the gloss, and it did not take a truly standard form until the fifteenth century, when it began to be printed.5 It offered two types of paratextual elements. First, it contained interlinear comments, inserted between the lines of the text. Second, the glossa surrounded the words of Scripture with commentary taken from authorities called marginal glosses. Therefore the Scripture literally swam in a sea of safe interpretation, taken from the treasure store of orthodox authors. This storehouse of orthodox opinion also provided a common store of knowledge for readers of the Scripture, who might only know as much of a medieval or patristic author as was available from the gloss. While the Glossa Ordinaria originated in an earlier period of Christian history, it was still being widely used in the sixteenth century. One of the earliest printings of the Gloss after the advent of moveable type was the printing of the gloss in 1480/1481.6 The emergence of Protestantism did not in any way demolish the practice of glossing the scriptural text. Martin Luther’s early lectures on Romans present a case in point. For his class lectures, Luther had the printer Johann Grunenberg prepare identical copies of the Vulgate text of the epistle to the Romans, specially printed with extra space between the lines,

34

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 34

12/19/2000 9:54:16 AM

Revelation and Scripture

and wide spaces in the margins. This allowed the students to make their notes directly in these spaces. Luther prepared for these lectures by copying into his own copy the interlinear and marginal notes that he would have taken almost verbatim from the glossa ordinaria.7 Further, printers of Bibles kept on printing glossed scriptures. In some cases, they sought to come up with Protestant glosses. We know that this is the case from the example of Robert Estienne. Estienne was printer to the king of France, and had a printing press in Paris. He wished to print a new glossed Bible that would include some of the later theologians’ insights in the same manner as the traditional gloss had. However, this raised the ire of the theological faculty at the University of Paris, who saw themselves as the guardians of orthodoxy. Their protest made it unlikely that the new glossed Bible could ever be printed, and in fact, Estienne felt that it was no longer safe for him to remain in Paris. He fled to Geneva, where he sought to prepare a “Protestant glossa ordinaria.”8 Glosses were not the only paratextual elements in early modern Bibles. John Rogers published an important early English Bible under the pseudonym of Thomas Matthew in 1537. This version used much of the translations of William Tyndale, supplemented by Miles Coverdale’s translations from the Vulgate. Philologically important because it was the first printed English Bible that was drawn largely from translations from the original biblical languages, this Bible did not leave correct interpretation to chance. It contained over 2,200 annotations, and large marginal notations.9 These “. . . paratextual aids in English Bibles were advertised as guides to ‘correct’ reading, they were always inflected with the particular doctrinal stance of the translators, revisers, and printers who were involved in making the Bibles.”10 Though much was made of the “plain sense” of scripture in the sixteenth century, few theologians or printers saw that as a matter that did not involve the issue of the right religion.

The Text of Scripture Another crucial scriptural issue of the early modern age was the recovery of the biblical languages. The recovery of Greek did not pose significant problems, except for the difficulty of learning Greek! Greek had been studied for centuries by a few theologians, and immersing oneself in the language of Plato, Aristotle, and Paul would not generally cause alarm. In fact, many theologians recognized that a Greek translation of the Hebrew Scripture was an important source for the translations of the Old Testament, and was the actual source of the Hebrew Scripture that some of the authors of the New Testament had known. Greek was relatively safe. Hebrew was another matter entirely. To learn Hebrew at the end of the fifteenth century or the beginning 35

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 35

12/19/2000 9:54:16 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

of the sixteenth century normally meant some kind of contact with Jews. True knowledge of biblical Hebrew had been extraordinarily rare in the medieval Latin world. Even to study such a language smacked of a too-permissive attitude toward the religion of the synagogue. This was complicated by a marked rise in anti-Semitic sentiments and actions near the turn of the sixteenth century. Ferdinand and Isabella had conquered the Moors in Spain, and forced the conversions of thousands of Muslims to Christianity. But as the Muslims had practiced a far more tolerant attitude toward Judaism than Latin Christianity had, the Christian conquerors also faced a large population of Jewish residents. They too were coerced into converting or emigrating. These coerced conversions did not solve all problems—many Christians believed that the conversions had not been genuine. The early history of the Spanish Inquisition can be seen as a racially motivated act, rather than a doctrinal purity act.11 Studying Hebrew came too close to a claim of the truth of Judaism. A good case in point is the example of Johannes Reuchlin. Reuchlin (1455–1522), was a humanist scholar, trained in law at Orleans and Tübingen. Though his career began in law and he served as a courtier at a ducal court and as a judge, Reuchlin’s true love was for classical studies. He published a Latin dictionary and made translations from the Greek. But he was convinced that the truest wisdom would come from the fount of God’s most ancient revelation, made to the Israelites in Hebrew. Thus, he studied Hebrew, and became an early Christian master of the language, publishing two works on Hebrew grammar, in 1506 and 1518. His forwarding of Hebraic studies did not go unnoticed. While many saw him as a leading light of German humanism, a converted Jew, Johannes Pfefferkorn (1469–1524), saw his work as dangerous to Christianity. In 1509, Pfefferkorn, with the support of the Dominican friars of Cologne, managed to get the Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I to formulate a mandate for the confiscation and destruction of all Jewish books, because he saw this as a help to the conversion of the Jews.12 Reuchlin wrote a protest, in which he recognized that such an indiscriminate attack broke standing imperial law. Further, he accused Pfefferkorn of anti-Semitism.13 Pfefferkorn attacked him, accusing him of heresy. To become proficient in Hebrew was an act that was laden with meaning in the time of the Reformation.14 By the end of the 1530s, studying the various languages would become commonplace. In fact, prior to that time, new editions of the scriptures were published. But that created as many problems as it solved. First, translating a complex, long text from one language into another is not only difficult, but at some points will involve compromise. When Greek and Hebrew skills became strong enough to examine the Bible anew, one of the first difficulties discovered was that the standard Latin translation occasionally departed from the 36

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 36

12/19/2000 9:54:16 AM

Revelation and Scripture

meaning of the Greek or Hebrew original. For instance, Erasmus noted that in Mark 1, Jesus had said, “Repent, and believe the gospel.” But the standard Latin translation of that had been “Do penance, and believe the gospel.”15 Problems abounded. First, the standard Latin translation was the Vulgate, a work translated and gathered together by St Jerome in the late fourth and early fifth centuries. While it had taken some time to gain full and hearty acceptance, by the sixteenth century, the authority of the Vulgate was sacrosanct. To challenge it was a shock to the foundations of Western Christianity. Second, the particular translation in question demonstrates clearly what was at stake. “Repent” is a good Christian word, full of meaning. However, “Do penance,” gave automatic endorsement to the sacrament of penance, a pillar of medieval piety. To deny Jesus’ express command to take part in the sacramental system represented a sea change in both piety and exegesis. Part of the reason for the authority of the Vulgate was its age. Christian thinkers had spent a millennium exploiting the specific nuances and linguistic choices of the Vulgate. The Vulgate arrived in the sixteenth century as a vehicle of tradition, and the inertia and gravity of that tradition could not change easily. Eventually, Rome would no longer countenance the consideration of possible “errors” in the Vulgate. At the Council of Trent, Rome set forth the Vulgate as approved by the Church.16 But that would not happen until much later in the century, after the legitimacy of the Vulgate had been called into question. Early Greek and Hebrew Biblical Editions While the popular conception of the sixteenth century saw Protestants established on the foundation of the Scriptures, the earliest printed editions of the Greek Scriptures came from scholars who remained adherents of Rome. The printing of Hebrew Scriptures preceded that, and was done by Jews, especially in Italy. One of the greatest accomplishments of the age for Christian biblical scholars was the Complutensian Polyglot of Alcalá, which was printed during 1514–17.17 The great driving force behind this enterprise was Cardinal Ximenes de Cisneros (1436–1517), archbishop of Toledo. Cisneros had founded the University of Alcalá in 1509, with the ideals of the Renaissance firmly in mind. The trilingual college was one of its clear markers, setting it apart from its rival Spanish university of Salamanca, a bastion of scholastic thought. The Complutensian Polyglot was named for the old Roman name for the city of Alcalá (Complutum), and the fact that it was printed in several languages (poly=many; glot=language). This caused the work to be quite large; it was printed in six volumes. The four volumes of the Old Testament were printed on the page in three columns. The middle column presented the Vulgate’s Latin text. The inside column presented the Greek Septuagint, 37

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 37

12/19/2000 9:54:16 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

a Greek translation of the Hebrew original that arose in the third to second century BCE. This column was presented with an interlinear Latin translation. The outside column presents the Hebrew text. For the Pentateuch, the Aramaic Targum Onkelos is presented as well at the bottom of the page, with a Latin translation.18 The fifth volume of the Polyglot offered the New Testament in two parallel columns presenting the Vulgate and the Greek New Testament. The sixth volume presented various aids to the reading of Scripture, such as a Hebrew and Aramaic dictionary, a brief Hebrew grammar, and interpretations of the Greek, Hebrew, and Aramaic names.19 The prologue to the reader made clear that the object of study was not to come to any greater understanding of Judaism. It stated, “We have placed the Latin translation of blessed Jerome as though between the Synagogue and the Eastern Church, placing them like the two thieves one on each side, and Jesus, that is the Roman or Latin Church, between them.”20 While there is no historical doubt that the editors of the Complutensian Polyglot were the first to print a version of the New Testament in Greek, this was not the first published edition to meet the eyes of the scholarly community in the sixteenth century.21 That honor went to the Dutch “prince of the humanists,” Desiderius Erasmus. Erasmus published his Novum Instrumentum (new instrument) in 1516 in Basel. It was printed by Johann Froben.22 All later editions would bear the title Novum Testamentum. Erasmus’ edition was perhaps not as exact as that of the Complutensian Polyglot, and he certainly did not have access to some of the texts with which they worked. But he published his first, and got the Greek testament into the hands of the community of scholars, both humanists and theologians. The new Greek testament excited both admiration and acrimony. In one of the greater ironies of history, Erasmus was blasted by conservative critics in much the same way as Jerome had been when his translation of the Bible had been offered as replacement for the Old Latin Bible.23 The advent of readily available original language scriptures led to two further developments in the understanding of the Word of God. First, there were now common texts about which, or with which, to argue. Calvin, Melanchthon, Bucer, Bude, and Jacques Lefevre d’Etaples would use the new editions as bases for their own textual work or as works to critique in their efforts to come to clarity on the meaning of Scripture. So the first great impact was in the scholarly community. Early Vernacular Bibles A second development, far more wide-ranging than the first, was the use of the new original language editions of the Scriptures to translate directly from the Greek and Hebrew into vulgar or vernacular language Bibles. This 38

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 38

12/19/2000 9:54:16 AM

Revelation and Scripture

represented an extraordinarily important transformation of the religious landscape of Europe. Literacy was increasing in the sixteenth century, but generally speaking, it was the reading of the vernacular languages that saw the greatest growth. The Complutensian Polyglot was an amazing accomplishment. But to take full advantage of it, a scholar needed significant linguistic ability in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Aramaic. That necessity determined the small readership. On the other hand, the possible market and audience for the Bible in a language that made sense to the common man and woman was vast. Scholars have calculated that between 1522, when Luther’s first German Bible was published—his September Testament, and 1546, the end of his life, over half a million Luther Bibles of one edition or another had been purchased.24 This was the pattern of the other languages as well. Jacque Lefèvre D’Etaples published an excellent French translation of the Scriptures in 1534 that was actually a translation of the Vulgate corrected by consultation with the Greek and Hebrew. England enjoyed the work of William Tyndale (c. 1494–1536), a brilliant translator equipped with deep knowledge of the biblical languages, and a gift for turning a memorable English phrase. Tyndale’s work of translation was done on the Continent, as the climate for biblical reform was bleak in England, and many of the bishops there did not trust the idea of a vernacular scripture. In 1526, Tyndale’s New Testament was published in Worms, a town in Germany, and copies were smuggled into England. English authorities naturally found out, and Tyndale was condemned, and copies of the book were burned. Tyndale spent much of the next ten years in hiding in Europe, but did not stop his work on translating the Old Testament. Tyndale was eventually captured, and in 1536 was burned at the stake. However, many of his translations turned up, without acknowledgement, in later English Bibles. Another example of a popular English language Bible that demonstrates the international character of the reforming movements, as well as the changing fortunes of particular parties, was the Geneva Bible. This Bible is sometimes called the “Breeches Bible” in reference to its translation of Genesis 3.7, that said Adam and Eve fashioned “breeches” for themselves out of fig leaves when they realized that they were naked. The Geneva Bible had its beginning in the persecution of Protestants in England under Mary I, who ruled from 1553 to 1558. Many Protestants fled to Geneva during her reign, and a group of scholars there translated the Bible.25 The New Testament first appeared in 1557, and the entire Bible in 1560.26 The result was called by some “. . . unquestionably the most scholarly, well-annotated, and accurate English Bible yet to appear.”27 While this Bible could not be printed in England, it became the most widely read, appearing in England, Scotland, and Holland. In Scotland, a law was passed in 1579 requiring every household that could afford to do so 39

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 39

12/19/2000 9:54:16 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

to possess a copy, and it was the Geneva Bible that everyone read, even late into Queen Elizabeth’s reign.28 The importance of these vernacular scriptures cannot be overestimated. While they were not the tools of the finest scholars, they made the literature of the Bible available more widely than any time in the last millennium to an increasingly literate public.29 Some of the translators were convinced that simply getting Scripture into the hands of believers would change the world. This was certainly the case for William Tyndale, whom John Foxe quoted as saying “I defy the Pope, and all his laws; and if God spares my life, I will cause the boy that drives the plow in England to know more of the Scriptures than the Pope himself!”30 For the first time in centuries, lay believers generally had the tools by which to read the Scriptures, and to judge the fitness of their religious leaders’ interpretations.31 Actual home Bible study was a widening possibility. This would make new models of piety and new methods of pastoral care feasible, thus hastening and deepening the changes in the religious landscape of the sixteenth century.

Humanists and the Interpretation of Scripture To this point we have concentrated upon the text of Scripture itself. However, biblical scholars and religious thinkers of all confessional camps did not merely seek to establish an excellent text.32 They sought ways to interpret that text which achieved several goals. Two competing goals emerged. First, there was the more humanistically oriented aim, to determine historically sensitive interpretations—seeking to find meanings of the text that would have been most likely believed among the text’s original hearers. Second, some thinkers clearly sought to establish the best doctrinal interpretations. Arguments arose about the hierarchy of these two different aims, and whether they could cohere. The humanists have presented a further problem to later scholarship. Should they be seen as textual scholars, or theologians in their own right? While tracing the arguments in the academy is not the point of this article, suffice to say that we will look at their contributions, precisely because both their critics and their supporters treated their work as theologically significant. Calvin, Luther, the Paris theologians, Bucer, and Vermigli were just a sample of those who judged the humanists’ biblical-philological work from a stance of considering its theological impact. While Lorenzo Valla is known for his philological work on classical texts that did include some investigations of the New Testament, and his work was known by both Martin Luther and John Calvin, a far more important early figure in Christian biblical humanism was John Colet. Colet (c. 1466–1519), was at the center of English humanism. Colet studied at Oxford, and then, in order 40

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 40

12/19/2000 9:54:16 AM

Revelation and Scripture

to further his studies in Greek, went to Italy for two years. Around 1496, he returned to Oxford, was ordained, and began to lecture on the epistles of Paul, a series of lectures that would last five years. Colet’s lectures on Paul demonstrate how deeply his time in Italy studying with humanists had affected him. The lectures did not follow the old style of lecturing on the meanings of the individual words of the epistles, but sought to grasp the whole of each epistle along with the personality of their author. These lectures also criticized the contemporary Church, and advocated a return to the simplicity and discipline of the early Church. Colet’s primitivism inspired many thinkers. The Dutch humanist Desiderius Erasmus attended at least some of them, and other famous figures may have as well. The substance of these lectures, and their impact on Erasmus, is a matter of historical quarrel. Some scholars have suggested that Colet was the door by which Erasmus entered into a greater historical sensitivity, or the influence that caused Erasmus to set ethical observance as a higher attainment than sacramental ceremonies. Others have seen this as a distortion of the originality of Erasmus’ work, and see the line of influence running in the opposite direction.33 In any case, we do know that Erasmus believed that Colet was doing something important and nontraditional when he lectured on Paul. Jacques Lefèvre d’Etaples (c.1460–1536, also called Faber Stapulensis) was another influential humanist working on the meaning of the Scriptures in the early stages of the Reformation. At times he was criticized for opening the door to Protestant ideas, but Lefèvre remained within the Church of Rome until his death. He was educated at the University of Paris, and traveled to Italy for further study in both the 1480s and 1490s.34 He then moved to Meaux, where he would be part of a circle of preachers, theologians, and Bible scholars dedicated to the improvement of the Church. Around 1507, Lefèvre began to concentrate his efforts on the Scriptures. In 1509, he published a polyglot Psalter in five versions. Titled the Quintuplex Psalterium, the version of the Psalms presented French, Latin, Hebrew, the Vulgate, and a Latin version of Lefèvre’s that sought to reconcile the other versions. Though he would also publish other editions of the Scriptures, especially notably his edition of the letters of St Paul in 1512,35 Lefèvre was not limited to preparing editions. He made great contributions to the interpretation of Scripture. In 1517 he published a tract arguing that Mary the sister of Martha and Lazarus, Mary Magdalene, and the woman who anointed Jesus’ feet were three different people. This provoked a fierce reaction from the Paris theologians, and this work was condemned by conservative theological voices. At Meaux, Lefèvre set out further principles of the interpretation of the Scriptures, suggesting that the Christian life is lived by following where Scripture guides. This could be read as a Protestant type of sola scriptura, but 41

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 41

12/19/2000 9:54:17 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

probably instead represents a kind of christological centering that finds confidence that the Word will finally bring about the reconciliation of all understanding of the Scriptures.36 This position only incurred more wrath, and his works were condemned in 1525. Retreating to the protection of the king’s sister Margaret d’Angouleme, Lefèvre lived out the rest of his life in quiet scholarship. Irena Backus has written on the question of Lefèvre’s “Lutheranism.” Did Lefèvre initiate theological debates that raged through the 16th and 17th century? If we look at his concern to make the Bible as widely available as possible especially in the vernacular, we can say yes. If, however, we consider his philology, we can say that, despite it being more timid than Erasmus’, it does underpin his exegesis which did have some influence on Erasmus, so that again the answer is yes. If we consider his basic conception of Paul as the spiritual and prophetic instrument of God, the answer is no. The answer is also negative if we consider his view of Peter and Paul, his doctrine of justification and original sin, his recourse to apocryphal texts to flesh out his portrayal of the apostle and his respect for the ecclesiastical hierarchy. Not that Lefèvre represents the forces of reaction. He is certainly a Christian humanist but a very special one.37 Lefèvre was enormously important in biblical interpretation and propagation of biblical learning in early modern France. But Backus’ article also emphasizes Lefèvre’s impact on Erasmus. That impact leads to considering him. Desiderius Erasmus (1467–1536) bore the reputation of the most learned of the biblical humanists. His editions of the New Testament were justly famous, and supplied the needs of both philologists and theologians across Latin Europe. But Erasmus was not only a textual critic. He wrote widely on the meaning of the New Testament, giving annotations with his New Testament, and expanding those annotations each time he published a new edition. These annotations amounted to a textual gloss, sort of a mini-commentary. Further, Erasmus wrote and published paraphrases of the books of the New Testament, seeking to pierce behind the language of a far different time and a very dissimilar set of historical circumstances to give his readers greater access to the Scriptures. Erasmus wrote widely, composing works of satire, grammar, moral advice, theological polemic, classical and patristic editions, and biblical interpretation. Though it is impossible to consider all he wrote about the meaning of the Scriptures and how to interpret them in a single brief chapter, some themes show up time and again.38 First, though Erasmus believed that the humanists were bringing light of the classical realms into the darkness of the medieval world, he was not a revolutionary. He believed that the point of 42

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 42

12/19/2000 9:54:17 AM

Revelation and Scripture

Christianity was the philosophy of Christ, the living out of the simple ethical Christianity most fully seen in the Sermon on the Mount. He believed that simple Christianity was preferable to the ceremonies of the late medieval Church, but he was not prepared to leave the Church. Instead, he believed in the moral reformation of the individual as the path to any reformation of the institutional church. Second, Erasmus set out a program of reading Scripture for the less learned. The individual in the reading of Scripture should pay attention to several points. Among these were knowing the context, knowing “. . . what is said, by whom, to whom, with what words, at what time, at what occasion, and what precedes and what follows.”39 Erasmus was attempting an early reading guide for the unlearned, an assistance to their own explorations in the Scriptures. Another point was Erasmus’ sometimes confusing desire for readers of Scripture to be reading deeply in Paul, and also to be reading those patristic authors who were most allegorical.40 The confusion comes from the difference between the Pauline material, which tends to give very little room for allegorical license, and the materials toward which the allegorical commentators gravitated, which were not usually Pauline. However, this apparent contradiction resolves itself when we consider the kind of Christianity Erasmus supported. Erasmus sought to inculcate a moral Christianity, a putting on of the true life of Christ in the contemporary believer. In Paul, he found a set of texts that contained great amounts of straightforward ethical guidance. Likewise, in the allegorical writing of some of his favorite allegorical authors, he saw the moral application being made frequently. The goal of the Scripture was the lived philosophy of Christ.

Luther and the Lutheran Interpretation of Scripture In 1517, Luther stunned the world with a fully developed critique of the Roman Church’s theology of revelation, ecclesiastical authority, and soteriology. That sentence would have fit the confessionally tinged patterns of an age of scholarship now past. Scholars still argue about Luther’s “Reformation breakthrough,” but the lines are no longer purely confessionally drawn. Further, a far greater sensitivity to the development of Luther’s theological and exegetical insights has delineated between those things that are demonstrably true from the textual evidence, and those things that Luther said about his life as he looked back on it almost three decades later. That being said, there can be no doubt that the Luther affair, and the Lutheran Reformation that came out of it, had at its core a hermeneutical revolution. Luther records that he was troubled in his own conscience about his hope of Heaven. Then one day, Luther discovered the breakthrough that gave him peace. Reading Romans 1.16 and 17, he read about the righteousness of 43

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 43

12/19/2000 9:54:17 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

God (iustitia Dei). Luther recounts that he had hated the idea of the righteous God. But then he records what came as his breakthrough. At last, by the mercy of God, meditating day and night, I gave heed to the context of the words, namely, “In it the righteousness of God is revealed, as it is written, ‘He who through faith is righteous shall live.’ ” There I began to understand that the righteousness of God is revealed by the gospel, namely the passive righteousness with which merciful God justifies us by faith, as it is written, “He who through faith is righteous shall live.” Here I felt that I was altogether born again and had entered paradise itself through open gates. There a totally other face of the entire Scripture showed itself to me.41 Luther saw this as his leap to another way of seeing God and the Scripture. His description of it for the 1545 edition of his Latin works made it sound as if it were sometime early in his career of commenting upon the Scriptures. As noted, Luther scholars argue about the date of this event. But what cannot be argued is that by 1520, Luther had developed a theory of the Scriptures that divided it into commands and promises or Law and Gospel. In his treatise Christian Freedom, published in November of 1520, Luther wrote, “Here we must point out that the entire Scripture of God is divided into two parts: commandments and promises.”42 This hermeneutical device of commands and promises, or Law and Gospel, provided Luther with a way of entering the Scriptures differently from both some of the signal figures of the Christian exegetical tradition and some of his contemporary opponents. It represents a hallmark of Lutheran scriptural work, one that Lutheran writers throughout the early modern period would employ in their search for biblical truth and for polemical advantage against non-Lutheran adversaries.43 Luther commented and preached widely upon the Scriptures. These commentaries and sermons were important for the foundation of a “Lutheran” way of living in scripture. However, more significant for the impact on early modern ways of thinking about the Scripture were two factors that Luther presented early in his break with Rome. First, he propounded what has variously been called the scriptural principle or the axiom of sola scriptura.44 This principle had as profound an effect as any in the history of Christian theology. Whether Luther meant what others thought he did was rather beside the point, thinkers now had a tool that logically made the knowledge of one book, the Bible, more important than the knowledge of all other sacred books put together. Second, Luther demonstrated what historians have called a certain “exegetical optimism,” about the clarity of Scripture. Luther, early in his struggle against Rome, believed that the Bible, if taken in its plain sense, was a text 44

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 44

12/19/2000 9:54:17 AM

Revelation and Scripture

that was rather easily interpreted. He did not mean to denigrate the learning of university masters, but he did wish to assert the clarity of Scripture—that men and women of good Christian faith could grasp the heart of the Gospel, and see the manifest ways that Scripture had been twisted by the philosophical wrangling of university theologians and clerics whose motivations were more about power or wealth. Both Lutheran and Reformed theologians would eventually retreat from this position, but not until its impact had been deeply felt by others. Luther’s concentration upon Scripture led to a “Lutheran” preoccupation with the Bible. One of Luther’s closest friends and lieutenants in the Wittenberg reform was Philip Melanchthon (1497–1560), who would contribute greatly to the Lutheran movement through his own works, and his carrying forward of Luther’s thought. Melanchthon was far more the humanist than Luther, and was brought to Wittenberg University in 1518 to teach Greek at the tender age of 21. Melanchthon’s gift for languages, and especially Greek, convinced Luther to turn over the task of lecturing on Romans to the younger scholar. This led to the eventual publication of Melanchthon’s commentary on Romans, which went through several expanding editions during Melanchthon’s lifetime.45 This commentary was widely viewed as an excellent summary of Romans, and as providing a useful way of organizing its teaching in a style called common topics, or commonplaces (loci communes). Melanchthon would use that same method to write a systematic rendering of Christian theology, entitled Loci Communes. This text would be one of the most influential summaries of Christian thought in the sixteenth century, rivaled in Protestant circles only by Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion.46 Lutheran contributions to the interpretation of the Scriptures did not end with the death of the first generation of Luther and Melanchthon. In the generations following Luther, Lutheran theologians and pastors churned out commentaries, theological treatises, and sermons that bore a discernible Lutheran stamp. Figures such as Johannes Brenz (1499–1570), Georg Major (1502–74), Matthias Flacius Illyricus (1520–75), Martin Chemnitz (1522–86), and Cyriakus Spangenberg (1528–1604), all wrote treatises and sermons; most wrote commentaries.47 Common to all were Luther’s Law–Gospel distinction, and a centrality of the theme of justification by faith. This led some outside and inside Lutheran circles to argue that Lutheranism depended upon a particular reading of the Pauline material.

Radical Contributions to Revelation and Scripture Certainly one group of people who listened to the critiques of the ecclesiastical practices and institutions made by the younger Luther were a group of people that has come to be called the Radical Reformation.48 Some among this group 45

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 45

12/19/2000 9:54:17 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

accepted Luther’s call for biblical religion, and applied it in their own lives. The results were, to say the least, unpredictable. At times, this “unleashed” attitude toward the Scriptures caused social upheavals, at other times ecclesiological and theological turmoil. Why did this happen? While historians differ on their analyses of the Radical Reformation and its foundational pillars, in part it is an effort to take seriously Luther’s dictum about the clarity of Scripture and the necessity of founding the Christian faith upon the clear testimony of the Word of God. However, particular applications of the Bible that various thinkers in the Radical Reformation took up resulted in notions that Luther had not considered. Hermeneutically speaking, Luther had not considered possibilities beyond his own set of presuppositions about the nature of the biblical witness. When faced with determined opposition on what the plain meaning of Scripture was, and what that meant for daily sixteenth-century life, Luther was horrified. What were some of these biblical applications? First, in thinking about the Radicals and Scripture, suffering is vital. The biblical notion of suffering was a crucial element of the Radical Reformation, both in its self-understanding and in its critique of the magisterial reformation. Radicals took John 15.20 as a prediction that was coming true. Jesus had said, “The servant is not greater than the master—if they persecuted me, they will also persecute you.” The people who accepted this as a program for their lives saw themselves as servants who were taking on the roles that their divine master had predicted. Radical thinkers also saw a normative character in this prophecy that it set out Jesus’ idea of what must be. So, if people were persecuting them, believers knew they were truly Jesus’ followers. Further, the rule could be turned from a description of the true community of disciples to a negative description of the false community, one that would not accept this model of servanthood. Many of the Lutherans, Zwinglians, and Catholics were not being persecuted; radicals reasoned that clearly they were not the followers of Jesus. An example of this value placed on suffering comes from the story of Anna Jansz of Rotterdam, executed by drowning in 1539.49 As she went to be executed by drowning, she turned to the crowd, and sought someone to raise her 15-month-old son. She could leave very little to her son—part of what she left behind was a will, directing her son in the true life of Christ. She wrote, Listen, my son, to the instruction of your mother. Today I go the path of the prophets, apostles and martyrs; I drink the cup that all of them drank before me; I go the path of Jesus Christ who had to drink this cup as well. I urge you, my son, submit to the yoke of Christ; endure it willingly, for it is a great honour and joy. Do not follow the majority of the people; but when you hear about a poor, simple, repudiated handful of men and women cast out of the world, join them. Do not be ashamed to confess your faith. Do 46

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 46

12/19/2000 9:54:17 AM

Revelation and Scripture

not fear the majority of the people. It is better to let go of your life than to deviate from the truth.50 Living out biblical dictates for the genuine religious life in the early modern period could become literally a matter of life and death. A further contribution toward the understanding of the Scripture came from the tendency of Radical thinkers to apply the models of life they found in the Scripture to their own period. It has been well marked that the Radicals were drawn to the more historical books as models for their own religious communities. This tendency led immediately and inexorably toward conflict with the established Church of Rome, as well as the magisterial reformers. A good example came in the manifestos that some Radical communities set out as their standards in the time leading up to the Peasants’ War. One such declaration is the Memmingen Articles, of 1525. The pastor of St Martin’s in Memmingen, Christoph Schappeler, had sided with the lower classes throughout his career. In early 1525, he wrote the document, possibly with some assistance.51 The articles clearly set out both Lutheran ideas, such as the stipulation that pastors must preach only the Gospel without human additions; and ideas that Luther would (and did!) reject, such as the legal reforms. Among those was the demand that the poor should have freedom from unbiblical ownership by the lords or the right of commoners to catch wild game. The denouement of the Memmingen community, and the Peasants’ War, does not concern us in this chapter. What is significant was the new way of handling the Scriptures, the use of the models of the ancient Hebrew and Christian communities to make direct claims about the present life. Most famously, this was represented in the Anabaptists’ rejection of infant baptism because of its absolute lack of biblical institution. This position gave the magisterial reformers enormous difficulties—they had attacked Rome for its resistance to follow the strictures of the Bible, and now they were being assailed for their own reluctance to establish biblical practices and discipline. Radical polemicists stated that the magisterial reformers were only willing to pursue a half-way reform, and that the magisterial reformers were afraid to follow the dictates of the Gospel wherever they led. One such attacker was Thomas Müntzer (c. 1489–1525). Though originally Luther had recommended Müntzer for a pastoral position, he eventually saw Müntzer as a dangerous influence, calling him the “Satan of Allstedt.” Müntzer envisioned the Church as a voluntary community of professing believers, bound together by the Holy Spirit.52 In his Prague Manifesto, written in 1521, Müntzer set out one of his significant ideas of Christian revelation, that the goal of redemption is the receiving of the seven gifts of the Spirit, taken from Isaiah 11.1–5.53 Müntzer preached openly in Prague, but did not gain a significant following. He went back to Germany, and took a position as 47

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 47

12/19/2000 9:54:17 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

pastor in the town of Allstedt. It was there that he preached perhaps his most remarkable sermon. On July 13, 1524, at Allstedt Castle, Müntzer preached before Duke John, the brother of Frederick the Wise (Luther’s prince), and the duke’s son, John Frederick. Duke John and John Frederick held different opinions about the proper role of the Christian lord. The sermon that day was Müntzer’s opportunity to affect their positions. Müntzer preached on the second chapter of the book of Daniel. This sermon is known by the title “Sermon before Princes.”54 Müntzer interpreted the many-leveled statue from Nebuchadnezzar’s dream (Dan. 2.31–45), and related it to a series of kingdoms, and made the final level of a mix of clay and iron the present age. Müntzer pronounced that the princes should have a new Daniel, one who will be led not by Scripture, but directly by the Spirit. Müntzer believed that he was that Daniel, and that the princes should follow his lead. What interests us in this article is not Müntzer’s ideas about princely power and its right use, but his ideas about Scripture and revelation. Müntzer’s thought on Scripture represented another contribution to the mix of conflicting and complementary ideas of Scripture and revelation in the early modern era. Müntzer believed that the true Christian does not need the Scripture. The Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments are only for the testing of the visions of the Spirit, so that the Devil does not come in and spoil the gifts. But only the spiritual man could do this. One possessed of the Spirit could read the Bible with Christian profit, but did not actually need it. On the other hand, if one had not received the Spirit, nothing would help. Müntzer wrote that “He (who has not the Spirit) does not know how to say anything deeply about God, even if he had eaten through a hundred Bibles!”55 Historians of doctrine call this belief the theory of continuing revelation. Müntzer was not the only radical figure who espoused this—Jan of Leiden would make the same claim in his kingdom of Münster, in the 1530s. This theory marked Müntzer and others of the radical reform as clearly different from the magisterial reformers, who denied the possibility of exceeding the canon. This also allowed for a greater sense of the importance of the common man—one does not need a university degree or the knowledge of Greek and Hebrew in order to receive direct knowledge from the Holy Spirit.

Reformed Contributions to Revelation and Scripture In the Reformed vein of the Protestant Reformation, other voices provided further ideas on Scripture and revelation. Though the Reformed and Lutheran ideals of Scripture were frequently quite close in both wording and in meaning, at other times they differed greatly. While the Reformed movement is at times (unfortunately) termed “Calvinism,” the movement begins without 48

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 48

12/19/2000 9:54:17 AM

Revelation and Scripture

Calvin, and continues long after his death—therefore this chapter will use the more felicitous term “Reformed.” One of the first significant figures in the Reformed movement and its contribution toward the ideas of Scripture and revelation in the sixteenth century was Huldrych Zwingli (1484–1531). Zwingli was educated in schools where he early came upon the new humanistic learning. Ordained a priest in 1506, Zwingli became a parish priest in the small Swiss village of Glarus. Fortunately, this parish was not overly taxing on his time, and he was able to continue his reading of humanist texts, as well as learning Greek and Hebrew. Though Zwingli had a small reputation in the small area of Switzerland where he worked, he gained a truly national and international stage when he was elected to the post of Leutpriester (people’s priest) at the Grossmünster in Zurich in late 1518. In Zurich, Zwingli confronted the process of reform with both skill and a straightforward manner. He announced his first advance on the first day of 1519, proclaiming that he would preach on the gospel of Matthew, preaching directly through the text. Thus, if his first sermon was on Matthew 1.1–4, his second sermon was on Matthew 1.4–6, and so forth. This preaching revolution offered a greater understanding to laity who couldn’t read the Bible for themselves as well as greater contextual setting for those who could. Zwingli claimed that he was inspired by the sermons of John Chrysostom, the famous preacher of the fourth century. Further, he asserted that his preaching was aimed at abandoning the human innovations that had obscured the Word of God. Zwingli’s reform won the votes of the Zurich city councillors, and in 1520, they ordered all preachers in Zürich to preach from the Bible without human additions and explanations. Zwingli made another important alteration in the way Scripture was handled in Zurich with his institution of the Prophezei. He believed that knowledge of the languages of the Bible would allow pastors to have the right understanding of Scripture, keeping them from falling into the heresies of factions.56 In 1525, the Prophezei was opened. This name was a biblical allusion to I Corinthians 14, where Paul directs the prophets to learn from each other. The Prophezei was open to all at no cost and met daily. It consisted of a reading of the Scripture in the Latin Vulgate, in Hebrew or Greek with translation back into Latin so as to facilitate learning and demonstration of the shortcomings of the Vulgate, and a German sermon, which gathered together the lesson, especially for those who had no knowledge of the other languages. Throughout, the participants could engage the material in discussion. It may not have been a fully workable program of biblical education, but it was a great advance over anything previously available. In a way, this was no innovation at all, simply the carrying out of the humanist impulse seen in the earlier decades. In another way, this new practice was terribly important, for it was a practical method of getting the new learning into the hands of actual preachers. 49

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 49

12/19/2000 9:54:17 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Zwingli introduced two more factors into the early modern consideration of Scripture before his early death on the battlefield in 1531. First, he adopted a scriptural principle that he applied to deny the use of things not mentioned in Scripture. He applied this in several areas of the Christian life. He did so in the sphere of worship, so the Zurich churches would have no organs, because Zwingli could not find warrant for them in Scripture. Searching for a clear and consistent hermeneutic of Scripture, he adopted a kind of metaphorical realism. This was particularly apparent in his Eucharistic struggles with Luther, where he simply would not accept the ontological reality of the statement “this is my body.” Zwingli’s second factor stands in a stark contrast to the first. While Scripture remained vitally important to the Zurich reforms, denial of Radical religion was just as important. This led Zwingli into the difficult position of defending infant baptism without the clear warrant of New Testament examples that he certainly would have used, had any been available. Why did he do this? It is tempting to say that Zwingli simply hypocritically gave up his reliance upon the Scriptures. A better answer is to note that Zwingli denied the individualism that he found in the radicals and spiritualists, and fastened the Scripture inextricably to the interpretation of the community, a community that would include magistrates and laws. As we noted, Zwingli died relatively early. The Reformed branch of the Protestant Reformation had several significant biblical interpreters such as Zwingli’s successor, Heinrich Bullinger (1504–75), the great reformer of Strasbourg, Martin Bucer (1491–1551), and Peter Martyr Vermigli (1499–1562), who had a great impact on the theology of the English Church during his professorship at Oxford University. However, the figure who most grasped the attention of both critics and supporters of the Reformed understanding of Christianity was John Calvin (1509–64). John Calvin was a brilliant theologian, relentless polemicist, and an able politician. During the sixteenth century, however, he made his greatest mark as a scriptural interpreter. While Calvin commented upon most of the books of the Bible, his impact was not simply from the amount of scriptural exegesis that poured from his pen. Calvin established several themes that would contribute to the early modern understanding of Scripture and revelation.57 Calvin’s most important effort toward the understanding of Scripture was his establishment of a mutually reinforcing method for understanding and living in the Scriptures. First, there was his systematic theology, the Institutes of the Christian Religion, which was modeled on Melanchthon’s Loci Communes. Though first published in 1536, Calvin gave it a longer and more final form in the second edition of 1539, when it became a help to the understanding of Scripture. Thus, for Calvin, a summary of theology was an entry into the treasure of Scripture. This would remain its most significant aim throughout 50

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 50

12/19/2000 9:54:18 AM

Revelation and Scripture

the rest of its editions. Calvin added to that his particular commentaries on various books of the Bible, as well as his sermons, and regular lecturing on Scripture. Thus, he gave the materials for a communal grasp of the Scriptures, by a reinforcing set of helps. A believer could hear a sermon, consider that passage in one of Calvin’s commentaries, and follow the particular doctrinal issue further in the Institutes. Any believer could possibly do this, for Calvin translated all of his works into the vernacular French, an enormous undertaking in the sixteenth century. Secondly, while Calvin held Luther in high regard, he did not follow his thought on the Law–Gospel distinction for the Scriptures. Calvin’s interpretation of the Scriptures depended heavily on the sense of historical context, whether he was reading the New Testament or the Old. Thus, he severely pared down the amount of messianic interpretation of passages in the Old Testament, especially in the Psalms. This earned him the deep ire of other Protestant theologians, especially Lutherans, who called him the “judaizing Calvin.”58 Though books can be (and have been) written about Calvin’s interpretation of the Scriptures, we shall consider only one more point before examining other movements. This final topic is the way that Calvin located the interpretation of the Bible always in the Church. Of course, all sixteenth-century theologians did that, but in Calvin’s case, this became programmatic. He called the Church the schola dei, the school of God. For Calvin, the curriculum for that school was the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament. His entire body of work, and the structures he put in place in Geneva, mirrored that concern.

Roman Contributions to Revelation and Scripture Too frequently, the history of the Christian engagement with Scripture in the Reformation has left the Church of Rome on the sideline. This tendency reflected modern confessional concerns and divides, rather than the evidence from the early modern period. It is not insignificant that the two earliest efforts at producing original language editions of the Bible came from the efforts of biblical scholars who would remain within the Church of Rome. Further, though the study of Catholic biblical interpretation in the early modern era is still relatively young, the early results have caused scholars to see the sixteenth century as a time of the flowering of Catholic exegesis. As with Luther or Zwingli or Calvin, simply counting up the commentaries produced by scholars in the Church of Rome is not only boring but also does not reveal overmuch. This principle should be taken as axiomatic: biblical commentaries were very popular in the sixteenth century, for printers, for scholars, and for the reading public. Beyond the production of commentaries and treatises, sermons and summaries, what did Roman theologians bring 51

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 51

12/19/2000 9:54:18 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

to the table? The first answer must be the voice of tradition. Faced with the charge of sola scriptura, Roman theologians generally rejected the idea as inherently flawed and somewhat absurd. They made the point in various ways that the continuity of the Christian confession across some 15 centuries required a sense of tradition, and a sense of real human history. No Catholic theologian of the early modern period (or later) argued against the centrality of Scripture. But they did hold for the necessity of reading the Bible “with the Church,” as represented both in the teachings of the doctors of the Church, and in the magisterial pronouncements of the hierarchy of the Church. While Luther saw the danger of the present age as the swamping of the Gospel of Christ by the flood of human traditions, Catholic thinkers saw instead a peril from the multiplication of individual interpretations, rising up into a chorus of dissonant voices that would lose the unity of the Christian message. To combat this, Roman theologians and the Roman hierarchy at the Council of Trent stood resolutely on the traditions of the Church, and the unitive power of the hierarchy to decide the meaning of the Bible. Therefore, the Church of Rome took up two separable but intertwined issues. First, it declared the basis of Christian authority to lie not only within Scripture, but also in tradition. The Council of Trent denied the sufficiency of Scripture alone. It said that Scripture must be accompanied by unwritten traditions that are kept by the Church. Therefore, the Church has two sources of authority, Scripture and tradition. Second, seeking a uniting function of scriptural interpretation, Trent decreed that only the Roman Church had the right to interpret the Bible, anyone interpreting against the sense of Holy Mother Church was liable to penalties.59 But what WAS Scripture? Was it the Greek and Hebrew? Were the various vernacular translations “scripture?” The Council of Trent defined this as well. First, the council set out the number and names of the books of the Bible, including some that Protestants had rejected. Then, the council decreed that the Latin Vulgate was to be preferred in all cases, and that no one should dare to reject it.60 This went hand in hand with Trent requiring that lay reading of vernacular translations of the Scripture should only be allowed with the express permission of the bishop. In doing so, the Church of Rome assured the continuance of the historical tradition, and of a particular way of reading Scripture. While it received the derision of Protestant critics, Rome offered the security of a clear case for continuity with historic Christianity.

English Contributions to Revelation and Scripture—Church of England and Dissent The English Reformation gave many contributions to Reformation theology. A new model of ecclesiology, a theology that deliberately set itself out as a 52

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 52

12/19/2000 9:54:18 AM

Revelation and Scripture

middle way, and the example of the English martyrs were only high points of a reforming movement that was in its own way both unique and very traditional. In the area of scripture, though England had brilliant theologians, their ideas of Scripture and revelation do not generally differ too significantly from the Continental reformers. This is hardly surprising, as there was frequent exchange of ideas and even theologians between England and Europe throughout the sixteenth century. But England did give two emphases that must be mentioned. The first, a taste for vernacular Scripture, happened before the Reformations even began, while the second—the experience of Christian religious dissent, was a rather late development. England’s desire for vernacular Scripture extended back into the fourteenth century. At that time, John Wycliffe (c. 1330–84), came to the position that the Bible was more authoritative than the hierarchy. He was convinced of the need for greater biblical knowledge, and so translated the Scripture into English. After Wycliffe’s death, a popular heretical movement, called the Lollards, adopted some of his ideas. Though the Lollards had to remain underground because of vigorous persecution, they kept the ideal of lay Bible reading alive—so alive that English church leaders eventually would prohibit the possession of English Bibles—especially those with Wycliffite prefaces. English fascination with Bibles would not cease, however. William Tyndale’s translations were very popular, though frequently illegal. After the English Reformation began with the Supremacy Act of 1534, Henry VIII would decree that every church must have an English Bible, and the frontispiece of the “Great Bible” of 1539 portrayed Henry passing the Bible on to the bishops and to his councillors—literally handing on the Word of God.61 The second issue came with the later lived experience of Christians in England. While the Church of England could hold power, dissent was frequently tolerated. That meant that Puritans, whether Presbyterians or Congregationalists, could continue their own tradition of translating, reading, and interpreting the Scriptures to suit their own theological paradigms—in the context of the greater privileges of the established Church. This dissenting model would be very significant for those lands where one or another confession was unable to stamp out its rivals.

Conclusion—Scripture, Revelation, and Belief The early modern era saw enormous changes in the area of scripture and revelation. The word “Bible” stayed the same in whatever language one spoke— but its significance changed dramatically. At the beginning of our period, that would have meant some form of the Latin Vulgate, and most likely glossed. By the end of this epoch, it could refer to the editions of the original language versions in Greek and Hebrew, a Latin translation with scholarly notes 53

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 53

12/19/2000 9:54:18 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

directing the reader’s attention to Greek and Hebrew editions, a vernacular translation, or the Latin Vulgate with a reemphasized authority. But who would read these scriptures? The answer to that question became ever more complex throughout our era of study.62 Luther’s German Bible experienced phenomenal success, as did the Geneva Bible, and various French and Dutch translations. To use economic terms, the market was absolutely insatiable for vernacular Bibles. But that desire among the laity balanced a certain uneasiness among the leaders of several of the reform movements. Both Luther and Calvin in their later years made strenuous efforts to channel the directions of interpretation of lay readers, reversing the tendency they displayed in their early careers of a naïve confidence that the truth of Scripture would simply show itself. The multiplication of paratextual elements in Protestant Bibles also shows a desire for lay readers to be guided toward “right” readings. Finally, the Church of Rome in the second half of the sixteenth century moved generally away from lay reading of Scripture at all, and some bishops even outlawed vernacular Scriptures. The revelation of the Word of God in the Scriptures became more and more complicated across our era. Further, the question of revelation had, at least in some manners, been divorced from Scripture. Radicals and spiritualists who argued that the direct revelation from the Spirit preempted the priority of the written Scripture made such a claim directly, without worrying overmuch about the impact. But we must also see the Tridentine statement that the tradition of the Church is as authoritative as the Scriptures as a parallel claim of revealed truth. Though Roman theologians would always be careful to unite the Scriptures and tradition, a theoretical difference had been officially decreed. The title of this article, “Revelation and Scripture” is significant, because in this era, the two concepts could be separated. Finally, the fact of the “success” of the Protestant movements gave impetus to a confessionalization of the reading of Scripture. Protestant and Catholic Bibles increasingly did not look the same, and came with radically different paratextual elements. The Bibles only illustrated the differences between the various confessions. In the second half of the sixteenth century, Roman authorities moved generally against lay Bible reading. This starkly contrasted the tendency in Protestant realms to push heavily annotated Bibles into the homes of the faithful to create true evangelicals. Further, Lutheran Bibles did not make the same interpretive gestures as Reformed. By the end of the Reformation period, the sense of the “Bible” had splintered in much the same way as the sense of the “Church.” The period saw great advances in the academic study of the Scriptures, but those undeniable advances existed in a scriptural world whose landscape would have been unrecognizable to the believer in the Middle Ages.

54

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 54

12/19/2000 9:54:18 AM

Revelation and Scripture

Bibliography Primary Sources Calvin, John. Calvin’s New Testament Commentaries. 12 vols, ed. David W. Torrance and Thomas F. Torrance. London: Oliver and Boyd, 1959; reprint edition Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1961. —. Calvin’s Commentaries. 22 vols, trans. Henry Beveridge. Edinburgh: Calvin Translation Society; reprint edition Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1979. —. Opera Quae Supersunt Omnia. 59 vols, ed. Wilhelm Baum, Edward Cunitz, and Edward Reuss. Brunswick: Schwetschke and Sons, 1895. Erasmus, Desiderius. Collected Works of Erasmus. 84 vols, ed. Richard J. Schoeck and Beatrice Corrigan. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1974–. —. Erasmus’ Annotations on the New Testament. Acts-Romans-I and II Corinthians. Facsimile of the final Latin Text with all earlier variants. Ed. Anne Reeve and M. A. Screech. Leiden: Brill, 1990. Luther, Martin. Luther’s Works. 55 vols, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan. St Louis, MO: Concordia Publishing House, 1955–86. —. D. Martin Luthers Werke: Kritische Gesamtausgabe. 69 vols, Weimar, 1883–2002. —. D. Martin Luthers Werke: Kritische Gesamtausgabe. Briefwechsel. 18 vols, Weimar, 1930–85. —. D. Martin Luthers Werke: Kritische Gesamtausgabe. Deutsche Bibel. 15 vols, Weimar, 1906–61. Melanchthon, Philip. Annotations on First Corinthians, trans. John Patrick Donnelly. Milwaukee, 1995. —. Commentary on Romans, trans. Fred Kramer. St Louis, MI: Concordia Press, 1992. —. Corpus Reformatorum: Philippi Melanthonis opera quae supersunt omnia, ed. Karl Bretschneider and Heinrich Bindseil. 28 vols. Halle, 1834–60. Williams, George and Angel Mergal (eds). Spiritual and Anabaptist Writers. Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1967.

Secondary Sources Bentley, Jerry H. Humanists and Holy Writ: New Testament Scholarship in the Renaissance. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1983. Burrows, Mark and Paul Rorem (eds). Biblical Hermeneutics in Historical Perspective. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1991. Ebeling, Gerhard. The Word of God and Tradition: Historical Studies Interpreting the Divisions of Christianity. Trans. S. H. Hooke. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1968. Ehrensperger, Kathy and R. Ward Holder (eds). Reformation Readings of Romans. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2008. Farmer, Craig S. The Gospel of John in the Sixteenth Century: The Johannine Exegesis of Wolfgang Musculus. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997. Holder, R. Ward (ed.). Companion to Paul in the Reformation. Leiden: Brill Academic Publishers, 2009.

55

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 55

12/19/2000 9:54:18 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology Kraus, Hans-Joachim. “Calvins exegetische Prinzipien.” Zeitschrift fur Kirchengeschichte, 79 (1968): 329–41. Translated as “Calvin’s Exegetical Principles.” Interpretation, 31 (1977): 8–18. Maag, Karin (ed.). Melanchthon in Europe: His Work and Influence beyond Wittenberg. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1999. McKim, Donald (ed.). Calvin and the Bible. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Muller, Richard A. and John Thompson (eds). Biblical Interpretation in the Era of the Reformation. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1996. Parker, T. H. L. Calvin’s New Testament Commentaries, 2nd edn. Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1993. —. Calvin’s Old Testament Commentaries. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1986. —. Commentaries on Romans: 1532–1542. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1986. Pelikan, Jaroslav, Valerie R. Hotchkiss, and David Price (eds). The Reformation of the Bible, The Bible of the Reformation. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1996. Preus, James S. From Shadow to Promise: Old Testament Interpretation from Augustine to Young Luther. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1969. Rice, Eugene F. Jr. Saint Jerome in the Renaissance. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985. Steinmetz, David C. (ed.). The Bible in the 16th Century. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1990. Taylor, Larissa Juliet (ed.). Preachers and People in the Reformations and Early Modern Period. Leiden: Brill, 2001. Thompson, John L. Reading the Bible with the Dead: What You Can Learn from the History of Exegesis That You Can’t Learn from Exegesis Alone. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2007. Wengert, Timothy J. and Matt Patrick Graham (eds). Philip Melanchthon (1497– 1560) and the Commentary. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997.

56

9780567033604_Ch03_Final_txt_print.indd 56

12/19/2000 9:54:18 AM

4

Justification Carl R. Trueman

Introduction While the events commonly referred to as the Reformation were the result of a complex combination of factors, social, economic, political, and religious, the central theological breaking point is often regarded as being that of justification by grace through faith. Luther’s claim that this was the article by which the Church stands or falls helped to highlight its prominence, and certainly it was, and is, a major bone of contention between Catholic and Protestant Churches. In fact, the situation in the sixteenth century was somewhat more complicated than this. Luther’s initial protest, the Ninety-Five Theses Against Indulgences (1517), was aimed at the abuse of the practice of indulgence selling by Johann Tetzel, and was not as much a clarion call for wholesale theological reformation but rather it was for clarification regarding a particular practice. Further, while Luther’s views on justification were clearly undergoing significant transformation between 1515 and 1520, it was the implications of these views in terms of notions of the ministerial and sacramental authority of the Church which were the real causes of Catholic consternation leading up to the Diet of Worms. Indeed, Luther could not be heretical on the point of justification during this period of time because of the simple fact that the Church had not yet defined exactly what it believed on this matter.1 Further, if we need to nuance the popular Protestant idea that the Reformation was, from the very start, all about justification, then we also need to understand that there is a need to nuance the idea that Luther’s teaching in this area represented a clean break with past church teaching. Of all the reformers, Luther was the most thoroughly trained and versed in medieval theology; and his later reformation thought, while discontinuous at key points with aspects of the late medieval theology of his earlier years, was yet indebted to key late medieval ideas. For this reason, it is important to know something of this background before turning to Reformation developments.

The Late Medieval Background Luther’s theological education was profoundly shaped by the school of thought known as the via moderna, or “modern way,” associated with names 57

9780567033604_Ch04_Final_txt_print.indd 57

12/19/2000 9:54:58 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

such as Jean Gerson and Gabriel Biel. Broadly speaking, the via moderna represented a movement which was somewhat more skeptical of the ability of humans to understand the mind and ways of God outside of special revelation (the teaching of the Catholic Church, rooted in Scripture and tradition).2 Earlier in the medieval period, theologians understood justification as based upon the actual transformation of individuals into those who were righteous. God declared those to be righteous who actually were so, or at least who had started the process of moving toward full consummated, eschatological righteousness. In other words, justification was really a process and it involved real change. To give one example, this change was achieved for Aquinas through the infusion of habits of grace through the sacraments. Indeed, for Aquinas there was a necessary connection between the sacramental system of the Church, the infusion of righteousness, and the declaration by God that an individual was justified. God’s verdict was based upon something intrinsic in the Christian. We should note that underlying all of this is a basic assumption that God’s declarations about reality reflect what reality already is. By the time we reach Gabriel Biel in the fifteenth century, many theologians were much less confident about the power of human reason to predict what God’s declarations about reality might be. This found conceptual expression in the so-called dialectic of the two powers whereby theologians distinguished between God’s absolute power and His ordained power. The distinction is formal, as medieval theologians were committed to the idea of divine simplicity; thus, it was a distinction introduced for the sake of helping finite human beings clarify their own thinking about God. God’s absolute power was defined as that set of things which he could do. As such, it was an infinite set, limited only by the principle of noncontradiction: God could create a world where the sky is green with pink stripes, for example, as this involves no analytic, logical contradiction; but he could not create a world where a triangle has four sides. God’s ordained power, however, is that subset of things which he has decided to do or to establish. Thus, by His absolute power He could create a world without ice cream, but, consistent with His goodness towards humanity, He has chosen to actualize a world where ice cream is indeed a reality. Now, the dialectic of two powers is not new with the moderni of the fifteenth century; it is, for example, present in Aquinas.3 What makes its employment by the moderni important is the way in which they deploy it as a means of delimiting human reason in matters of theology. Because God can do anything, according to His absolute power, how does one predict what he actually does do according to His ordained power? Ultimately, one does this on the basis of revelation, understood by the moderni as the declared teaching of the Church based upon Scripture and the guidance of God through church tradition. 58

9780567033604_Ch04_Final_txt_print.indd 58

12/19/2000 9:54:58 AM

Justification

The significance of this for justification lies in the fact that, prior to the advent of the via moderna, the assumption was that God’s declaration that someone was righteous needed to be based upon some intrinsic righteousness in the particular individual. Justification was, in other words, a divine response to prior divine activity in infusing righteousness. With the via moderna the connection between the two was dramatically weakened: reality became what God declared it to be. Thus, the necessity for individuals to actually possess intrinsic righteousness prior to God declaring it was made void: according to God’s absolute power, He could declare any individual righteous, regardless of their intrinsic qualities. In the case of justification, Gabriel Biel, perhaps the greatest of the moderni, and certainly the most influential of the medievals on the early theology of Martin Luther, argued that, while it was possible for God to make such a declaration, what in fact He had done was establish a pact between Himself and humanity whereby he would grant grace to “the one who does what is in him” (“facienti quod in se est, Deus gratiam non denegat”). We might paraphrase this as “to the person who does their best, God does not deny grace.” The idea was that the individual who did their best could earn their translation into a state of grace, not on the basis of strict merit which was intrinsically worthy of grace, but on the basis of congruent merit, whereby God agreed to take their best as if it were really worthy of grace. Then, once in a state of grace, the individual could truly begin to perform works which were strictly meritorious. This teaching had a number of obvious implications. First, it clearly weakened the role of the sacraments in the Christian life, since these were necessary for salvation only because God had so determined they should be, and the initial translation into a state of grace was not necessarily dependent upon them at all. Secondly, it clearly moved notions of being in a state of God’s favor away from the intrinsic nature of the individual and to the extrinsic decision of God. This is the key conceptual continuity between late medieval theology and that of Martin Luther.

Martin Luther on Justification While Martin Luther was trained in the theology of the via moderna, he was to move decisively away from this kind of theology from about 1515 onward. His developing understanding of justification involved a number of key elements.4 Consistent with his background in the via moderna, he continued to see the essence of justification as lying in the decision of God, not the intrinsic qualities of the one justified: the question regarding justification is not an ontological one (Is this person undergoing the right process to become actually righteous?) but rather one of status (“Is this person declared by God to be righteous?”). In April 1518, the Augustinian Order to which he belonged had its regular chapter meeting at Heidelberg and debated a series of theses which 59

9780567033604_Ch04_Final_txt_print.indd 59

12/19/2000 9:54:58 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

he had prepared as a summary of his theology. It is here that Luther’s emphasis upon extrinsic denomination and status comes to the fore. This is clear from his Thesis 28 on God’s love: The love of God does not find, but creates, that which is pleasing to it. The love of man comes into being through that which is pleasing to it.5 In other words, whereas human love is responsive, and finds something intrinsic in an object which stimulates it into action, God’s love is of a different order, finding its motivation not in the intrinsic loveliness of an external object, but solely within itself. This connects closely to what he says at Heidelberg concerning the nature of true righteousness. In Thesis 25 (and its explanation) he says the following: He is not righteous who does much, but he who, without work, believes much in Christ. For the righteousness of God is not acquired by means of acts frequently repeated, as Aristotle taught, but it is imparted by faith, for “He who through faith is righteous shall live” (Rom. 1[.17]), and “Man believes with his heart and so is justified” (Rom. 10[:10]). Therefore, I wish to have the words “without work” understood in the following manner: Not that the righteous person does nothing, but that his works do not make him righteous, rather that his righteousness creates works. For grace and faith are infused without our works. After they have been imparted the works follow. Thus Rom. 3[.20] states, “No human being will be justified in His sight by works of the law,” and, “For we hold that man is justified by faith apart from works of law” (Rom. 3[.28]). In other words, works contribute nothing to justification. Therefore, man knows that works which he does by such faith are not his but God’s. For this reason he does not seek to become justified or glorified through them, but seeks God. His justification by faith in Christ is sufficient to him. Christ is his wisdom, righteousness, and so on, as I Cor. 1[.30] has it, that he himself may be Christ’s action and instrument.6 This development does not, however, take place in isolation within his theology; in fact, Luther connects this to a developing appreciation of what he understood to be the Pauline understanding of sin, baptism, and righteousness.7 On sin and baptism, Luther had been taught by his medieval masters that sin was a fomes, a piece of tinder, which had the potential of setting the whole human being on moral fire. Such a fomes need to be dampened down, as happened in baptism and the system of sacramental grace.8 As he lectured through Romans in 1515–16, however, he became convinced that sin was properly understood as death. Death, of course, is a status concept, not a process of something which inheres in or inhibits something else. One is either dead 60

9780567033604_Ch04_Final_txt_print.indd 60

12/19/2000 9:54:59 AM

Justification

or alive; there is no line of continuity between the two. This development in Luther’s thinking also connects to his developing understanding of baptism: baptism is not a washing; rather it is death and resurrection. Developments in Luther’s understanding of justification thus cannot be separated from his understanding of the sacraments. A further aspect of Luther’s break with late medieval theology of particular importance to his understanding of justification is the contrast he draws between theologians of glory and theologians of the cross. Again, this is articulated clearly at the Heidelberg disputation in 1518. The most significant theses in this regard read as follows: 19. That person does not deserve to be called a theologian who looks upon the invisible things of God as though they were clearly perceptible in those things which have actually happened [Rom. 1.20]. 20. He deserves to be called a theologian, however, who comprehends the visible and manifest things of God seen through suffering and the cross. 21. A theologian of glory calls evil good and good evil. A theologian of the cross calls the thing what it actually is.9 Basically, what Luther is saying here is that there are two ways of approaching reality: the theologian of glory exemplifies one way, in which reality is assumed to be that which it empirically appears to be; while the theologian of the cross exemplifies the other, in which reality is looked at through the lens of God’s revelation on the cross. Indeed, responses to the cross offer the supreme examples of both kinds: to the theologian of glory, Jesus hanging on the cross looks like a broken sinner, defeated and crushed, dying the death he deserves; to the theologian of the cross, Jesus hanging on the cross appears as the perfect Son of God, dying a death he did not deserve and, by so doing, triumphing victorious over the forces of evil. The difference is not the event of the cross, it is the approach of the theologian, one of whom comes assuming that God works in ways that are basically consistent with human expectations, the other of whom comes assuming that God’s own revelation must provide the criteria for judging God’s actions. The importance of this for justification is made clear in a number of other theses at Heidelberg: 26. The Law says, “do this,” and it is never done. Grace says, “Believe in this,” and everything is already done. 27. Actually one should call the work of Christ an acting work and our work an accomplished work, and thus an accomplished work pleasing to God by the grace of the acting work.10 61

9780567033604_Ch04_Final_txt_print.indd 61

12/19/2000 9:54:59 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Here, the counterintuitive logic of the cross is applied to the very being of God and to salvation. As noted above, Thesis 28 says, God’s love is not responsive to that which is already lovely but is itself creative by making an unlovely object into that which is lovely. Thus, God’s love is creative and fundamentally different from that of human beings. This is the foundation for the preceding thesis: the righteous one is not one who works righteousness, as the medieval appropriation of Aristotelian notions of righteousness assumed. Such look to the Law, try to obey it, and find they can never fulfill it. Rather, it is God who is actively righteous in Christ, and believers thus become righteous not by acting and doing but by believing the Word of God. The links to late medieval paradigm are clear: God’s determination, not empirical appearance, is the true guide to reality. The breaks with late medieval theology, however, are also clear: there can be no active preparation for grace in terms of doing one’s best; and righteousness is understood as located in Christ and appropriated by the believer through faith, not infused or imparted via the sacraments. Luther’s understanding of justification reaches full expression in a treatise of 1520, The Freedom of the Christian. Here, he articulates both the basis for justification and its ethical implications in great detail. On the former, he offers the idea of “the joyful exchange” of righteousness and sin which takes place between Christ and the believer when the latter is united to the former by faith: The third incomparable benefit of faith is that it unites the soul with Christ as a bride is united with her bridegroom. By this mystery, as the Apostle teaches, Christ and the soul become one flesh [Eph. 5.31–2]. And if they are one flesh and there is between them a true marriage—indeed the most perfect of all marriages, since human marriages are but poor examples of this one true marriage—it follows that everything they have they hold in common, the good as well as the evil. Accordingly, the believing soul can boast of and glory in whatever Christ has as though it were its own, and whatever the soul has Christ claims as his own. Let us compare these and we shall see inestimable benefits. Christ is full of grace, life, and salvation. The soul is full of sins, death, and damnation. Now let faith come between them and sins, death, and damnation will be Christ’s, while grace, life, and salvation will be the soul’s; for if Christ is a bridegroom, he must take upon himself the things which are his bride’s and bestow upon her the things that are his. If he gives her his body and very self, how shall he not give her all that is his? And if he takes the body of the bride, how shall he not take all that is hers?11 Thus, faith, trust in God’s Word, unites the believer to Christ as the bride is united to the bridegroom and, as in marriage, there is—to use Luther’s term—a “joyful exchange” of sins and righteousness. As the bride can lay claim to all that is the bridegroom’s, and vice versa, so the believer can lay 62

9780567033604_Ch04_Final_txt_print.indd 62

12/19/2000 9:54:59 AM

Justification

claim to Christ’s righteousness and He can lay claim to the believer’s sins. Of course, the believer is not really, intrinsically righteous, any more than Christ is really and intrinsically sinful. The transaction involves the crediting of righteousness and sin to the account of the other. Thus again, we see both the continuity and discontinuity of Luther’s thought with that of his late medieval masters: God’s decision, not intrinsic qualities, constitutes reality; but justification is not to be understood as the impartation of righteousness; rather we have here the roots of what would later be called the imputation of righteousness. The obvious riposte to this is, of course, that it opens up the way for moral laxity. If justification before God is divorced from intrinsic righteousness, what is to stop an individual from claiming to be justified and then behaving as badly as they desire? There is certainly force to this argument: Luther’s understanding of the role of the Law in salvation is very negative. It serves to condemn sinners, to reveal their unrighteousness and their hopeless state before a holy God; it precedes the Gospel therefore as a way of driving individuals to despair of themselves; then the Gospel comes and offers Christ who, grasped by faith, gives his righteousness. So where do good works enter the scheme? For Luther, the answer is simple: good works flow as the spontaneous grateful response to God for His grace. In this regard, Adam offers the paradigm of works done not to earn grace but simply as a response to God’s goodness: In order to make that which we have said more easily understood, we shall explain by analogies. We should think of the works of a Christian who is justified and saved by faith because of the pure and free mercy of God, just as we would think of the works which Adam and Eve did in Paradise, and all their children would have done if they had not sinned. We read in Gen. 2.15 that “The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to till it and keep it.” Now Adam was created righteous and upright and without sin by God so that he had no need of being justified and made upright through his tilling and keeping the garden; but, that he might not be idle, the Lord gave him a task to do, to cultivate and protect the garden. This task would truly have been the freest of works, done only to please God and not to obtain righteousness, which Adam already had in full measure and which would have been the birthright of us all.12 In other words, the justified person is, as it were, returned to paradise where works are done not to make one righteous, but simply because God is a great God and we are His creatures. A further important distinction at this point is that which Luther makes between different kinds of righteousness. Passive righteousness, that which is 63

9780567033604_Ch04_Final_txt_print.indd 63

12/19/2000 9:54:59 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

received only by faith and which makes the believer righteous before God has absolute priority over active righteousness, that by which the believer does outward good works. A failure to understand this would lead, in Lutheran terms, to a confusion of Law and Gospel, the ultimate theological crime.13 Before leaving Luther who is, after all, the fountainhead of Protestant notions of justification, we should also mention the great controversy of 1524–5 in which Luther engaged with Erasmus. Erasmus, the great humanist intellectual, had been under considerable pressure from the Catholic Church from as early as 1519 to make clear his relationship to Luther. This he finally did in 1524 with a polemical work, The Diatribe on Free Will, in which he argued, among other things, for the basic obscurity of scripture, a doctrinal minimalism, and a semi-Pelagian understanding of the role of the human will in salvation. Luther responded in 1525 with a massive and devastating polemical tome, On the Bondage of the Will which he himself later was to describe as the only thing he had written which was worthy of outliving him.14 Luther’s Bondage is a long and complex book but its relevance for justification is clear: he regarded justification by faith as resting upon a solid, antiPelagian understanding of the role of God in salvation. For Luther, if the will played any active role in faith, then justification ceased to be by faith alone but instead became an unholy and unstable synthesis of faith and works. To mitigate the state of fallen humanity by allowing any active role to the human will in salvation is to derogate from the person and work of Christ: If we believe that Christ has redeemed men by his blood, we are bound to confess that the whole man was lost; otherwise, we should make Christ either superfluous or the redeemer of only the lowest part of man, which would be blasphemy and sacrilege.15 In sum, Luther’s doctrine of justification involved a number of doctrinal convictions: sin has rendered humanity morally dead and thus impotent to effect, or even assist, in salvation; righteousness is found not in doing good works but solely in Christ; the Law teaches that all have died in sin and are incapable of saving themselves; the Gospel offers the promise of salvation in Christ; and when the promise is believed, the believer is united to Christ and receives his righteousness.

Philip Melanchthon The impact of Luther’s teaching was dramatic. Not only did it turn medieval notions of justification and of good works on their head, it also shattered the notion that certain callings were inherently holy, and, more immediately, required that liturgies be read in the vernacular and that preaching, the 64

9780567033604_Ch04_Final_txt_print.indd 64

12/19/2000 9:54:59 AM

Justification

primary means by which the Word came to the congregation, be far more central to Christian worship than had been the case in the Middle Ages. The doctrine itself also underwent development within Protestant ranks. Luther’s successor, Philip Melanchthon, was the great systematizer of Lutheran theology and also chose to articulate justification using more narrowly legal or forensic categories than had been the case for Luther. This has led some scholars to see a significant discontinuity between the two men, pitting Luther’s view of justification over against the forensic formulation of Melanchthon.16 Certainly it is the case that Luther preferred the marriage metaphor when talking of justification while Melanchthon favored that of the courtroom. This is quite clear in Melanchthon’s statement on justification in his Loci Communes.17 Nevertheless, claims that they differed substantially on this issue face a number of significant problems. First, Luther entrusted Melanchthon with the composition of the Augsburg Confession of 1530, which is to this day part of the confessional standards in Lutheran churches; thus, whatever differences existed between them, even on the central point of justification, were clearly not serious enough to preclude Luther from having full confidence in his younger colleague. Second, and more significantly, in a letter from Melanchthon to Johannes Brenz, another theologian, on May 12, 1531, the former argues justification along forensic lines and Luther, in his own hand, adds a postscript to the effect that, while he prefers to use other ways of speaking, he is in agreement with his colleagues’ teaching on this point.18 In short, the textual evidence, and the very nature of the context in Wittenberg, both militate against seeing any fundamental discrepancy between Luther and Melanchthon on this key issue.19

Huldrych Zwingli Huldrych Zwingli (1484–1531) was the first great theologian of the Swiss Reformation. Unlike Luther, whose education was fundamentally medieval in content and context, Zwingli was a student of the new learning, humanism, associated with the name of Desiderius Erasmus, and focused on the transformation of society through the reinvigoration of the study of classical literature and languages. While justification was the central concern of the theology of the Lutheran Reformation, it was not so for Zwingli. Luther’s development as a theologian had been marked by his personal despair at the fact that he could never, in himself, be righteous before God; if Zwingli had a parallel crisis, it was the havoc wreaked on his Zurich congregation by the Plague, when 25 percent of the city’s population died. This led him to reflect more on the mysteries of God’s sovereignty and providence.20 65

9780567033604_Ch04_Final_txt_print.indd 65

12/19/2000 9:54:59 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Nevertheless, justification does play a role in his thinking. For Zwingli, Christ’s saving righteousness is specifically his dying for us and making satisfaction. This is driven by Zwingli’s strongly Anselmic approach to atonement where Christ’s incarnation is basically instrumental to his death. In other words, Christ lived a perfect life in order to qualify himself to die as mediator. This, of course, is not a point which would particularly distinguish Zwingli as a Protestant rather than a Catholic, nor is it particularly antithetical to Luther, even though Anselmic language is not his typical way of talking about the atonement.21 The main difference between Zwingli and Luther, in addition to their view of the doctrine’s structural importance, is that, for Zwingli, justifying righteousness is not simply that which is imputed but also that which is imparted; thus, the clear distinction between kinds of righteousness which are found in Luther’s are not so clearly articulated in those of Zwingli. He does speak of inward and outward righteousness; but the line between imputation and impartation is not so sharply drawn, with the accent in salvation increasingly falling on spiritual renewal.22

John Calvin John Calvin (1509–64), while a Reformed theologian in terms of his rejection of the real, physical presence of Christ in the Lord’s Supper was yet heavily indebted to Luther. As a young exile in Basle, he had been somewhat distinguished from his colleagues in his preference for the writings of Luther, and even in his later theology, his refusal to reduce the Sacrament to the dimensions of Zwinglian theology indicate a lasting sympathy for the intention, if not the actual position, of Wittenberg theology.23 On justification, Calvin is at one with Luther both in the anti-Pelagian framework within which he understands salvation and in the punctiliar, declaratory nature of justification as being by the imputation of Christ’s righteousness through faith. His major exposition of this occurs in the 1559 edition of his magnum opus, The Institutes of the Christian Religion Book 3, chapters 12 to 19. The placement of the discussion is interesting, coming after the discussion of sanctification; but the order is probably less dogmatically significant than might at first be thought. There is strong evidence to suggest that the order of topics in the Institutes actually reflects Calvin’s understanding of the order of topics in Paul’s Letter to the Romans, and that Melanchthon’s commentary on the same had a profound influence on him in this regard. This is, of course, not to deny that Calvin saw an intimate connection between justification and sanctification, and tied them both to the believer’s union with Christ by faith (while yet keeping justification logically prior to sanctification). Thus, in a famous statement he declares: 66

9780567033604_Ch04_Final_txt_print.indd 66

12/19/2000 9:54:59 AM

Justification

Christ was given to us by God’s generosity, to be grasped and possessed by us in faith. By partaking of him, we principally receive a double grace: namely, that being reconciled to God through Christ’s blamelessness, we may have in heaven instead of a Judge a gracious Father; and secondly, that sanctified by Christ’s spirit we may cultivate blamelessness and purity of life.24 Thus, justification and sanctification are inseparable in Calvin’s thinking, though the priority of the former is maintained. Calvin is also at one with Melanchthon with his use of forensic, courtroom language to describe justification: If an innocent accused person be summoned before the judgment seat of a fair judge, where he will be judged according to his innocence, he is said to be “justified” before the judge . . . [J]ustified by faith is he who, excluded from the righteousness of works, grasps the righteousness of Christ through faith, and clothed in it, appears in God’s sight not as a sinner but as a righteous man. Therefore, we explain justification simply as the acceptance with which god receives us into his favor as righteous men. And we say that it consists in the remission of sins and the imputation of Christ’s righteousness.25 All of the basic Lutheran elements are here: the language of the courtroom, the instrumentality of faith, the imputation of Christ’s righteousness. One of the important elements in justification for Calvin, as for Luther, is the assurance which it brings to the believer. Assurance was not particularly prized in medieval theology, in large part because it was seen as a basis for complacency and moral laxity; but for the Reformers it became a central part of their teaching. Thus, in discussing justification, Calvin notes that the Protestant view brings two particular benefits: it gives all glory to God, as human beings play no meritorious role whatsoever, and it assures the conscience of good standing before God.26 Thus, the doctrine is also as pastoral in its implications for Calvin as for Luther.

Confessional Statements All of the major Protestant confessional statements of the sixteenth century contain sections which deal with justification. Thus, Article 4 of the Augsburg Confession, written by Melanchthon and presented by the Lutheran princes of the Holy Roman Empire to Charles V in 1530, deals with the issue and stresses the fact that it is without intrinsic merit and by imputation.27 The structural importance of the doctrine is also reinforced by the topical ordering 67

9780567033604_Ch04_Final_txt_print.indd 67

12/19/2000 9:54:59 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

of Luther’s catechisms, which are framed by a Law–Gospel structure: they begin with an exposition of the Ten Commandments, and then move to a discussion of God’s saving action in Christ. The message is clear: the Law merely shows us our moral guilt; the Gospel then speaks joy to our souls as we grasp it by faith.28 On the Reformed side, the First Helvetic Confession (1536), composed by a number of Swiss divines, including Zwingli’s successor, Heinrich Bullinger, contains no separate chapter on justification, but chapter 14, “On Faith,” does make brief reference to justification being something we attribute by faith to God, and to the fact that faith never exists without works.29 The Second Helvetic Confession, however, contains a large chapter on true justification of the faithful (15) and a subsequent one on the relationship of faith to good works (16). These chapters offer a thorough statement of the issues, making it clear that justification is by the extrinsic imputation of Christ’s righteousness.30 Other confessional statements of the 1560s, such as the Heidelberg Catechism, the Belgic Confession, also contain clear statements of the issue and demonstrate the existence of a broad Protestant consensus on the matter of justification, faith, and imputation.31 Indeed, despite the later valiant attempt of John Henry Newman to read The Thirty-Nine Articles in as Catholic a manner as possible, Articles 11 and 12 are clearly most naturally read as thoroughly Protestant in their intent and content, a point reinforced by Article 35’s plea for the reading of the Homilies in church, a number of which touch directly on faith, works, and justification and which offer an unequivocally Protestant understanding of their relations.32 It is perhaps worth noting at this point that Anabaptists’, confessions, of which that known as the Schleitheim Confession is the most well known, generally have no place for justification. Anabaptism was, of course, a diverse phenomenon, but those groups typically bracketed under this general term were by and large more focused on social transformation than the kind of theological debate that was taking place within the more Augustinian contours of Magisterial Protestantism and Catholicism. Luther’s notion of freedom was understood not so much as a theological category, it seems, but as a political or civic one.33

Catholic Responses Given the centrality of justification to the theological and ecclesiastical program of Protestantism, and also its implications for church practice regarding sacraments, preaching, and liturgy, it was inevitable that the Catholic Church would need to address the issue. The first formal attempt to do this occurred at the Diet of Regensburg in 1540, during the reign of Pope Paul III, where the Catholic theologian, Cardinal 68

9780567033604_Ch04_Final_txt_print.indd 68

12/19/2000 9:54:59 AM

Justification

Contarini, engaged Protestants on precisely this issue. Key Protestant players at this meeting included Martin Bucer, the reformer of Strasbourg and later Professor of Divinity at the University of Cambridge (who, incidentally, had been present many years earlier at the Heidelberg Disputation), and his associate, John Calvin, at that time exiled from Geneva and pasturing the congregation of French exiles in Strasbourg.34 The Diet is significant in that an agreement between the two parties was reached. Indeed, the Catholics and Protestants were able to come to consensus by allowing that justification was twofold. This language of double justification was not new to Protestantism. Early English Reformers had routinely argued for such, arguing that justification before God was by faith and Christ’s righteousness, and outwardly before the world was by the works of the renewed person. In other words, outward justification expressed basically the same concept as the later language of sanctification was to do. Similar double justification language is also found in Bucer, who avoids making justification and sanctification equally ultimate by linking both together in an order undergirded by predestination: election leads to justification before God by faith leads to justification before the world by works leads to glorification. In other words, outward justification is the outward sign which indicates the reality of the inward justification.35 The agreement at Regensburg did not, however, achieve any official status within the Catholic Church and, while the language is ambiguous, it seems probable that the agreement was in word only, with the Catholics reading inner justification as being by impartation, the Protestants by imputation.36 It was the Council of Trent that gave definitive treatment of justification and finalized the division between Catholicism and Protestantism.37 In 1547, Session VI of the Council of Trent issued a series of decrees and canons on justification.38 While there was, superficially at least, some common ground between Catholicism and Protestantism on issues such as the inability of the Law to justify the sinner and the Christological basis of justification, yet there were crucial areas of difference. While Luther and Calvin regarded the will as dead and as impotent, Canon Five of the Sixth Session of Trent crucially regarded it as seriously weakened. The bondage of the will was, of course, the hinge on which Luther’s understanding of justification and salvation turned, and in its difference with him on this matter, Trent clearly charted a very different course for its own understanding of justification. Further, Trent conceived of sin and righteousness primarily in substantial, rather than status, terms, with grace therefore being something which assisted and healed the morally wounded individual. Pastorally, this reinforced the importance of the sacramental system of the Church for salvation, as the channels through which grace flowed, as is taught in chapters 7 and 14. Trent also repudiated any notion of assurance as Protestants understood it, as being conducive only to 69

9780567033604_Ch04_Final_txt_print.indd 69

12/19/2000 9:54:59 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

“vain confidence of heretics” as the title to chapter 9 puts it. Finally, justification involved transformation, or what Protestantism would call sanctification, as is made clear by chapter 10. This was not, as some Protestant polemicists then and since have argued, a crude justification by human works; rather it was justification by the impartation, not imputation, of Christ’s righteousness. Both Catholics and Protestants agreed that it was Christ’s righteousness which justified, as chapter 2 makes clear; where they disagreed was on how this was so. For Protestants, it was imputed to the sinner and thus affected status; for the Catholics it was imparted to the sinner and thus affected his being. While Luther was not singled out for condemnation in the decrees and canons of Trent on justification, it is nonetheless very clear who the target of its concerns was. From its repudiation of the bondage of the will to its assertion of impartation, Trent condemned Luther, and all those, like Calvin, who followed in his path. The end result was a view of salvation where grace assisted the individual and where truly good works could be done. Thus, Trent represents the clarification and codification of the very kind of theology against which Luther had so strongly reacted; and as it was an ecumenical council, its rulings came with the force of law and the breach was fixed.39

Conclusion The Reformation as a term refers to a vast complex of movements and ideas, but central to the theological dispute between Protestants and Catholics was the doctrine of justification. While the figure of Luther towers over these debates, even a cursory glance at the ecclesiastical situation in the sixteenth century indicates how his influence spread far beyond Wittenberg and shaped the nature not simply of theology but also liturgical practice, the place of the sacraments, worship, and individual Christian experience across Europe; and how he set the basic terms of debate to which Catholicism had to respond. Central to his understanding were the role of the Law as showing humans their unrighteousness, the Gospel in pointing to Christ, and faith as the instrument by which Christ’s righteousness was grasped by the believer, and by which it was imputed and not imparted. Righteousness was thus twofold: passive and inward before God by imputation and outward and active before the world, the result, not a cause or even a constituent part, of faith. While Lutheran and Reformed disagreed on many things, on these basic points there was a confessional consensus in the mid-sixteenth century, a consensus sharpened by the Catholic Church’s own assertion of justification by impartation and the close connection between this and the sacramental authority of the Church.

70

9780567033604_Ch04_Final_txt_print.indd 70

12/19/2000 9:55:00 AM

Justification

The implications of the Protestant doctrine, which fall beyond the scope of this essay, were, for the sixteenth-century Church, dramatic. An emphasis on Law and Gospel required a vernacular liturgy. An understanding of justification as rooted in the extrinsic declaration of God intensified the contingent nature of the sacraments, which had already begun to emerge in late medieval nominalism. This, combined with the accent on assurance, struck at the very heart of the Catholic Church’s understanding of her own authority, or the importance of the priesthood and, indeed, of the nature of human beings. Thus, while not the immediate cause of the Reformation, the doctrine of justification represented in many ways the nexus of all manner of matters of dispute between Protestantism and Catholicism. Indeed, as abstract as many of the issues may seem today, one cannot understand sixteenth-century Europe without coming to grips with this doctrine.

Bibliography Bast, Robert J. and Andrew C. Gow (eds), Continuity and Change: The Harvest of Late Medieval And Reformation History: Essays Presented to Heiko A. Oberman on His 70th Birthday. Leiden: Brill, 2000. Kolb, Robert. “God Kills to Make Alive: Romans 6 and Luther’s Understanding of Justification (1535).” Lutheran Quarterly 12 (1998): 33–56. —. “Luther on the Two Kinds of Righteousness.” In Timothy J. Wengert (ed.), Harvesting Martin Luther’s Reflections on Theology, Ethics, and the Church, 38–55. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004. Lohse, Bernhard. Martin Luther’s Theology: Its Historical and Systematic Development, trans. Roy A. Harrisville. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1999. McGrath, Alister E. Iustitia Dei: A History of the Christian Doctrine of Justification. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. Oberman, Heiko. The Harvest of Medieval Theology: Gabriel Biel and Late Medieval Nominalism. Durham: Labyrinth, 1983. Ritschl, Albrecht. Der Christliche Lehre von der Rechtfertigung und Versöhnung, 3 vols. Bonn: Marcus, 1882–3. Trueman, Carl R. “Simul peccator et justus: Martin Luther and Justification.” In Bruce L. McCormack (ed.), Justification in Perspective: Historical Developments and Contemporary Challenges, 73–97. Grand Rapids: Baker, 2006.

71

9780567033604_Ch04_Final_txt_print.indd 71

12/19/2000 9:55:00 AM

5

Law and Gospel Ľubomír Batka and Anna Marie Johnson

The distinction between Law and Gospel formed a key tenet of Martin Luther’s theology, and this distinction was taken up by many later Protestants. In contrast to the late medieval understanding of the Gospel as a new law, Luther regarded the Gospel as the certain promise of the forgiveness of sins. The Gospel is given by grace, without regard for the fulfillment of the Law. The Law, then, is not a means to gain salvation, for salvation can be given only by grace. Instead, the Law can only restrain sin and drive sinners to recognize their need for the Gospel. The Law–Gospel distinction functioned for Luther to remind sinners of this reality: The Law demands everything, and the Gospel gives everything. The Word of Law accuses sinners and thus kills them, and the merciful promise of the Word of Gospel saves and gives new life. Luther’s formulation of the Law–Gospel distinction and his understanding of the functions of the Law were not adopted fully by his followers and successors, but most Protestant reformers took up some version of these ideas in their own teaching. By and large, Protestant reformers agreed that the Law helped maintain order in a broken world and helped Christians identify their sin. Those who disagreed with Luther’s understanding argued either that the Law had no relevance to Christian life or that it had more relevance than Luther was willing to grant it.

Luther’s Method Luther’s understanding of the difference between the Law and the Gospel can be traced to his approach to Scripture. It is in the Word that God reveals who He wants His people to be.1 Luther regarded the Scriptures as a great and inexhaustible treasure which taught proper cognition of man and God. Without biblical exposition, theology devolves into philosophy. Such a practice does not help the sinful Christian to achieve righteousness before God.2 Paradoxically, Luther thought that Scripture was a relatively simple device, yet by its simplicity, it dashed human wisdom to foolishness. Finally, Luther believed that God works through Words. When God speaks, 72

9780567033604_Ch05_Final_txt_print.indd 72

12/19/2000 9:55:38 AM

Law and Gospel

things happen: the world is created, sin destroyed, the dead rise from the dust (Isa. 25.5; 40.8; 55.11).3 This view of Scripture, however, does not mean that every word of the Bible should be kept equally on either a personal or a social level.4 According to Luther: “From the very beginning the word has come to us in various ways. It is not enough to simply look and see whether this is God’s word, whether God has said it; rather we must look and see to whom it has been spoken, whether it fits us.”5 Thus, the context of Scripture and the context of the reader were both very important standards to Luther. God speaks to specific people in their particular context.6 Disregarding their divine origin, they were of little value if they were not said to a person.7 Understanding the context of God’s Word allowed one to distinguish the important from the trivial: “He who knows how to distinguish well is a good theologian.”8 Distinguishing does not mean simply dividing. It is instead a way of properly labeling theological doctrines, beliefs, and concepts.9 Luther often utilized antithetical pairs to convey the dynamic nature of faith: Law and Gospel, death and life, the old and the new, Moses and Christ, Old and New Testament, Commandment and promise, deeds and faith. Antithetical ways of thinking were, according to Luther, grounded in the Bible and clearly showed the meaning of salvation in Christ.10 These pairs were not oppositional, however. For Luther, they were truly united pairs. Together, they demonstrated the power of the Word of God. For example: Law and Gospel, as a pair of antithesis, helps one to understand how these two fundamental forms of God’s Word lead to salvation. This is adequately expressed in 1 Sam. 2.6f: “The Lord kills and brings to life; he brings down to Sheol and raises up. The Lord makes poor and makes rich; he brings low, he also exalts.” Thus, Luther would say, God’s Words speak to us in two basic forms: “Now the first sermon, and doctrine, is the law of God. The second is the Gospel. These two sermons are not the same. Therefore we must have a good grasp of the matter in order to know how to differentiate between them. We must know what the law is, and what the Gospel is.”11 Luther’s distinction between Law and Gospel is not, however, a statement about the two parts of biblical canon.12 In Luther’s thinking, the Law is not a synonym for the Old Testament, nor is “Gospel” and “Good News” a synonym for the New Testament, because one can find Law and Gospel in both Testaments. For example, in the Old Testament Luther identifies several “promises and words of grace.”13 This is particularly true of the prophets and the Psalms (cf. Rom. 1.1–4). In Summaries of the Psalms (1531) Luther classifies the Psalms in five categories. The most important of these five categories are the “Christological” Psalms, which foretell the Messiah in Luther’s reading.

73

9780567033604_Ch05_Final_txt_print.indd 73

12/19/2000 9:55:38 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

These Psalms brought the hope of Good News to the ancient Israelites, and Luther believed they continued to bring hope to Christians of his day. Luther also found hope in other books of the Old Testament. Regarding the Books of Moses, the first five books of the Old Testament, Luther said that the best thing he found in Moses related to the promises and pledges of God about Christ: “I read Moses because such excellent and comforting promises are there recorded, by which I can find strength for my weak faith. For things take place in the kingdom of Christ just as I read in Moses that they will; therein I find also my sure foundation.”14 In Moses there are promises of God that sustain faith. For example, Luther believed that Christ was promised to Adam and Eve in Genesis 3.15, when God cursed the serpent for tempting Eve. In this curse and its subjugation of Satan and the powers of evil, Luther saw the first promise of God’s help for a fallen humanity. Thus, for Luther Genesis is an exceedingly evangelical book. Later, God repeated this promise through Abraham (Gen. 22.18; Gal. 3.16), Moses (Deut. 18.15–16), David (2 Sam. 7.12–14), and to the prophets Isaiah (7; 53) Micah (5.2), Hosea (13.14). The final proof for this exegetical procedure is finally revealed in the New Testament (Jn 5.39; 1 Cor. 15.3f.). Despite the promises Luther saw within the Old Testament, he also recognized that it is primarily a book of divine laws, and he thought they had an important role in the life of faith. Divine laws teach what people ought to do and ought not to do, and humanity needs these laws because original sin leads every human away from the proper way of serving God. But the Law to Luther was not a synonym for the Old Testament or for the Ten Commandments. In its most simple form, the Law is God’s Word declaring: “Do this. Avoid that. This is what I expect of you.”15 The Law consisted of making requirements not solely based on behavior but based primarily upon the “clean heart,” the whole attitude of mind and will toward God.16 According to Luther, there were two kinds of laws. First, in the civil sphere the Law prescribes what works are to be done or not done with the purpose of enabling effective government among people.17 Moses had established the temporal government by appointing rulers and judges (Exod. 18.13–26) to rule over temporal things in moral and civil affairs. Prohibition of murder, stealing and so on, ensured order in society and protected life in outward relations. The aim was mainly to prevent wicked people from doing bad things: “Such laws are for prevention rather than for instruction.”18 Laws about the external worship of God belong to this category as well. They, too, could be understood as good, divine ordinances. In them was a certainty of proper worship of God. These many laws of Moses were issued to enable a person to choose ways of doing good and living right on his own. These functions of the Law are often termed the “first use of the law” (primus usus legis). 74

9780567033604_Ch05_Final_txt_print.indd 74

12/19/2000 9:55:38 AM

Law and Gospel

God not only wanted deeds to be done or not done, but also expected a trusting, loving, dedicated, and willing heart. This was not about doing the Law, but rather about fulfilling it. In his Preface to the Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans (1522), Luther wrote, “God judges according to what is in the depths of the heart. For this reason, his law too makes its demands on the inmost heart; it cannot be satisfied with works, but rather it punishes as hypocrisy and lies all works not done from the bottom of the heart.”19 To fulfill the Law was “to do its works with pleasure and love, to live a godly and good life of one’s own accord, without the compulsion of the law.”20 The first commandment is fulfilled when God is met in faith and love only. Thus the proper positive meaning of the Law was to embrace God without fear, willingly, with pleasure in and love for God’s Law (cf. Deut. 6.5f.; Mt. 22.37f.). For Luther, however, if one attempts to live according to this spiritual understanding of the Law, one realizes very quickly that there is a wide gap between what ought to be and what is in reality. In the human heart nothing is as it should be, and therefore the fulfillment of the Law is not possible in fallible humans. This radical view of human sinfulness is one of Luther’s primary theological points. Luther had his own experience of struggle with evil desires and saw it as a clear confirmation of the impossibility to fulfill the Law. During these struggles, Luther began to doubt the prevalent scholastic view of sin, which understood sin as a lack of righteousness that weakened the ability to fulfill the Law. Instead, Luther became convinced that sin marred the power of the will to such an extent that humanity was not capable of truly good works.21 His intensive reading of the Epistle to the Romans deepened his fundamental conviction that the primary goal of the Law rests in revealing sin. The Law reveals sin to humanity and teaches humans to recognize it (cf. Rom. 7.7 and Rom. 3.20). Per Luther, the sinful corruption of the best of human capacities, such as reason and will, meant that humans always think, act, and live against the Law. Luther called such a predicament the “blindness of reason” and the “hardened presumption” expressing itself as sins of unbelief and evil desire.22 Luther argued that even the heathens are aware of God, but either their reason teaches them to fear, trust, believe, and love him wrongly, or their will does not let them fear, trust, believe, and love him at all. Among the people of Israel original sin caused a similar blindness of reason, which was expressed in the thinking that one could keep the Law with one’s own power. Indeed, according to Luther, Christians stand under the accusation of the Law as well. Blinded reason does not recognize its own corruption and feels secure; and a Christian never loves the Law by his own powers, since this is possible only through the renewing power of the Holy Spirit and will be accomplished only in eternity. The will can even turn against the Law with hatred, “because the more the law demands of men what they cannot do, the more they hate the 75

9780567033604_Ch05_Final_txt_print.indd 75

12/19/2000 9:55:38 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

law.”23 People then violate the Law even more than before or fall into deep spiritual despair.24 In short, Luther thought that Christians could not follow the Law no matter how hard they tried, so the Law’s primary theological function was to drive them to despair over their sin and to recognize their need for grace. This view is what is often called the second, or theological, use of the Law (usus elenchticus legis).25 According to Luther, this is the true intention of Moses: to use law to reveal sin and to put to shame all presumptions regarding human ability.26 To Luther, once Christians are confronted with their sinfulness, they cannot stand firm against the judgment of God. They experience the “wrath” of God and their own death as vengeance and punishment (cf. Rom. 6.23 and Rom. 8.2).27 Left to their own devices, there is nothing to be added; the journey of humanity ends in a dead end. Just as the Old Testament cannot simply be equated with the Law, neither can the New Testament be equated with the Gospel. Rather, the two parts of biblical canon were, to Luther, historical witness to the acting power of God. Christ did not teach only the Gospel; in the New Testament we find examples and stories about the life of God’s people and the Law side by side with the Gospel. Luther cites many instances of law in The New Testament. For example, the apostles admonished sinners, and each call for repentance must be understood as law too. Jesus himself expounded upon and even expanded the Law (cf. Mk 1.1 and 4) but did not identify it as a means of salvation. In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus did not abolish the Law, but gave a deeper and proper meaning to Moses’ commandments. Nevertheless, Luther did not see Christ as a new Moses bringing a new spiritual law. Instead, the Gospel was an effective promise of salvation that created faith. It not only taught human beings where to get the power to fulfill the Law, but it also reversed the direction of the Law by announcing what God was doing for humanity.28 The Gospel, according to Martin Luther, is about Christ’s merits, the Son of God who became man, who died and was raised, and who is Lord over all things, so that people might live: This Gospel of God or New Testament is a good story and report, sounded forth into all the world by the apostles, telling of a true David who strove with sin, death, and the devil, and overcame them, and thereby rescued all those who were captive in sin, afflicted with death, and overpowered by the devil. Without any merit of their own he made them righteous, gave them life, and saved them, so that they were given peace and brought back to God. For this they sing and thank and praise God, and are glad forever, if only they believe firmly and remain steadfast in faith.29

76

9780567033604_Ch05_Final_txt_print.indd 76

12/19/2000 9:55:38 AM

Law and Gospel

The Gospel is not simply information about Christ’s merits. It is a Word addressed to particular people in particular situations. As the Law creates a personal knowledge of sin, so the Gospel proclaims what Christ gives to each Christian.

The Antinomian Controversy The question remained what role the Law plays after the advent of the Gospel and the Christian’s conviction of sin. At the beginning of the Reformation, Luther emphasized the Gospel over the Law. This was a reaction to his experience of the legalism of medieval church practice. However, it would be a false conclusion to say that Luther dismissed Mosaic Law entirely. While the Law ended with Christ because he fulfilled it entirely, the Law remains for each individual Christian as long as he or she is in this life. Again and again Luther complained about the false security of his parishioners, who forgot that the struggle between the New Adam and Old Adam continues throughout the entire life. Even though Christ’s office was greater, as long as sin remained, the Law’s identification of sin was needed. The question about the importance of law continued as the Reformation developed and its key tenets were debated. In 1527 Luther’s younger colleague John Agricola (1494–1566) from Eisleben started a dispute with Philip Melanchthon about the role of law in Christian life. The question at hand was whether contrition and repentance was a precondition of faith or a consequence of it. Agricola thought that preaching the Gospel was best suited to create deep sorrow over one’s sin. In the same year during a meeting at Torgau, Luther helped formulate a compromise-formula in order to prevent an open controversy in Wittenberg. In this compromise the necessity of preaching repentance was confirmed, to Melanchthon’s standards. Furthermore, Luther stated that repentance follows from faith and continues after faith is established, thus placating Agricola. However, the meaning of “faith” remained somewhat ambiguous and so the debate over the relationship between faith, repentance, and the Law did not go away entirely.30 Agricola remained convinced of his opinion and 10 years later, in 1537, a second antinomian controversy began. From December 1537 until September 1540, a series of academic theses, disputations, and treatises appeared that both defended and rebuked Agricola. Agricola rejected any role of the Law in the life of a Christian. He taught that God’s wrath was revealed through the Gospel and the sin of unbelief did not injure the Law, but Christ. Luther became increasingly disappointed by Agricola and finally responded by repeating the basic distinction of Law and Gospel. He restated that a Christian was simultaneously saint and sinner (simul iustus et peccator) and therefore the

77

9780567033604_Ch05_Final_txt_print.indd 77

12/19/2000 9:55:39 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Law was still necessary. In this way, Luther reiterated his basic teaching about justification: the Law contributes nothing to justification, but justification is necessary in order to fulfill the Law.31

Third Use of the Law Later in the Reformation, another issue on the Law emerged. Various reformers debated whether there was a third use of the Law in Christian life in which the Law served as a guide to show Christians how they ought to live. This use is different from the first use of the Law because it goes beyond the goal of simply restraining sin, and instead the Law is seen as positive instruction for Christian life. Luther had been cautious to avoid prescribing the process of sanctification in the life of a Christian out of a fear that any description of sanctification would encourage believers to strive for salvation instead of relying on grace. To Luther, spiritual growth and sanctification means a return to the very beginning, where the Law accuses the sinner, the Gospel gives him Christ as a gift every day anew. Yet Luther was convinced that good works would flow spontaneously from justification. By hearing the Good News of forgiveness, the heart is purified of fear and despair, and is filled, instead, with love. Becoming a good tree of faith meant to bear good fruits naturally. In Luther’s view, Christ became the foundation for human salvation, but he was also an example for Christians.32 Just as Christ served freely and willingly, so Christians should serve their neighbors with happiness and willingness, even if it resulted in suffering. Such actions of servitude in love, however, did not make a Christian. Rejecting the Aristotelian ethical premise about good deeds making a good person, Luther argued that a person does good deeds because they have been made good in Christ.33 In a Christian, love is never done for egoistic reasons or a religious zeal for holiness. According to Luther, to make Christ our example means giving yourself in service to your neighbor just as you see that Christ has given himself for you. See, there faith and love move forward, God’s commandment is fulfilled, and a person is happy and fearless to do and to suffer all things. Therefore make note of this, that Christ as a gift nourishes your faith and makes you a Christian. But Christ as an example exercises your works. These do not make you a Christian. Actually they come forth from you because you have already been made a Christian. As widely as a gift differs from an example, so widely does faith differ from works, for faith possesses nothing of its own, only the deeds and life of Christ. Works have something of your own in them, yet they should not belong to you but to your neighbor.34 78

9780567033604_Ch05_Final_txt_print.indd 78

12/19/2000 9:55:39 AM

Law and Gospel

Oswald Bayer summarizes this understanding of the relationship between faith, works, and ethics as follows: “With respect to ethics, with a view toward our works, our actions, our political engagements, there are advances—even if there is no progress in an absolute sense.”35 Despite these improvements and Luther’s admonition to works of Christian love, Luther scholars have generally agreed that Luther does not have a third use of the Law. For Luther, the spontaneity of good works that arise from love cannot come from the Law. Nevertheless, he repeatedly expounded on the Ten Commandments and thought that these laws too helped Christians grow in faith, so it is still accurate to say that he sees a constructive use of the Law. While Luther may have rejected this perspective, it would be picked up and used extensively by those more closely associated with John Calvin and the Reformed Tradition.

Calvin and the Reformed Tradition Early in his career, perhaps influenced by Luther and Melanchthon, Calvin did draw a sharp distinction between Law and Gospel.36 As he revised the Institutes of the Christian Religion, however, Calvin seems to have backed away from a sharp distinction and instead began to concentrate on the unity of Law and Gospel. Though Calvin would ultimately posit views which were different from Luther’s, their views concerning the testaments of the canon were quite similar. Both Calvin and Luther taught that it was inaccurate to equate the Old Testament with the Law and the New Testament with the Gospel. However, Calvin did not stress the antagonistic contrast between the Law and Gospel as Luther did. In his Institutes of the Christian Religion Calvin stated, “The Gospel did not so supplant the entire law as to bring forward a different way of salvation.”37 Thus, Calvin approached Law and Gospel from the unity of the process of salvation from the Old and New Testaments. Therefore, for Calvin the relationship between God and humanity has the legal form of a covenant which comes directly from God, and Calvin viewed such a covenant as eternal. In fact, this perspective of covenantal relationship can be seen as a particular hallmark of the Reformed Tradition generally. It can be seen in Ulrich Zwingli, Martin Bucer, and Heinrich Bullinger.38 In this tradition, the Old Testament displays evidence of the Old Covenant between God and Israel, and the New Testament gives evidence of the New Covenant between God and the Church. Calvin viewed both covenants as dependent on God for their validity and continuity, and thus he could say that God’s supremacy makes the covenant into an overarching principle that bridges two distinct periods. Calvin often underlined his understanding by using the differentiation between light and shadow, as found in the New Testament, to describe the 79

9780567033604_Ch05_Final_txt_print.indd 79

12/19/2000 9:55:39 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

difference between the covenants. The Old Testament was a shadow of future things; however, he described Christ as a source of light that shone through the history of God’s interaction with humanity and subsequently made known what was hidden in previous times. As such, Calvin posited that the patriarchs differed in the transparency of the revelations that they had received, “but the gospel did not supplant the entire law as to bring forward a different way of salvation. Rather, it confirmed and satisfied whatever the law promised, and gave substance to the shadows.”39 To Calvin, the patriarchs saw God as through a veil, but such differentiation did not cause their revelation to become less important or of less value. Instead, whereas the prophets were the directing light to Christ, Calvin saw Christ as the light of righteousness itself. Thus, to Calvin, the New Covenant does not abolish the Old; rather, it fulfills it and brings it to a more tangible clarity. There is no difference in the substance of the covenants, but only in the forms and modes of dispensation of such things from God. A bit further in the Institutes, Calvin clarified the relationship between the testaments by identifying five specific differences between the testaments which all touch on the distinction—though not contradiction—between the Law and the Gospel.40 In the Old Testament there was a clear promise of temporal gifts, whereas in the New Testament there is a promise of spiritual blessing. The truth in the Old Testament was hidden like a figure (figura, imago) typifying Christ, whereas in the New Testament the truth (veritas) is revealed in the very substance of Christ. The Old Testament is literal, whereas the New Testament is spiritual. The former is ruled by an economy of servitude, but the New Testament by an economy of freedom. Finally, the Old Testament refers to one nation, while the New Testament refers to all nations. Through this kind of perspective Calvin maintains the continuity between the Old and the New Testaments. While both have differing expressions, they maintain the same functions: to give a good and happy life to those who obey God and the Law and, ultimately, life eternal. Once he has firmly established the connection between the Old and New Testaments, Calvin expands on the Law as a theological concept. Here, Calvin distinguishes three aspects of the Law. He understood the Law first as a set of religious cultic laws and ceremonial commandments, second as various civil and judicial rewards and punishments, and third as a moral law, written on the hearts of human beings that, because of sin, was also “made known by Moses” through the Ten Commandments.41 The universal character of Law, as Calvin saw it, is granted through divine revelation. As such, God is immutable and always the same, he has stated what is righteous; therefore, the Law is not something which is ambiguous, or changing, or subject to the vagaries of history. If something is contrary to God’s Law in one place and time, it is contrary to God’s Law in all times and 80

9780567033604_Ch05_Final_txt_print.indd 80

12/19/2000 9:55:39 AM

Law and Gospel

places. God has given these commandments so that humanity could know what God expected from them and, subsequently, could be led to righteousness. Therefore, the words of God serve as “heavenly doctrine,” and in the Bible, God accommodates fallen humanity by giving a divine teaching that can be both grasped and used in order to achieve blessing and life. While Calvin thought the Law was comprehensible, he nonetheless recognized that due to inherent sinfulness, humanity was unable to uphold the Law to its letter. Though Calvin thought the ceremonial law ended with the New Covenant, all forms of the Law were useful in their own context (cf. Heb. 9.10), namely in their spiritual meaning, which, in its finality, would lead to Christ as a source of true salvation.42 Having distinguished, three aspects of the Law, Calvin then expanded upon this to examine what can be called the three uses of the Law. Edward Dowey described the difference between these two categories as the difference between the intention of the Law and the function of the Law.43 The first use details God’s righteousness compared with humanity’s unrighteousness and, as with Luther, awakens us to our inability to justify or save ourselves. The second use is related to our political or social lives and focuses on the punitive. It allows for our social well-being by limiting and punishing sins that are destructive to a community—stealing, murder, and so on. The third use of the Law is a specific gift from God to the community of believers. It teaches them the proper meaning of the will of God and aids them in their Christian journey.44 As to the first use of the Law, Calvin posited that the Mosaic Law was imbued with the function of revealing humanity’s low position and hopeless situation in relation to God. It alerts us to the impossibility of fulfilling the Law, “while it shows God’s righteousness alone acceptable to God, it warns, informs, convicts, and lastly condemns, every man of his own unrighteousness.”45 In speaking of this first usage of the Law, Calvin did not mind utilizing harsh language about the Law killing the sinner and driving him to despair.46 At the same time, Calvin repeatedly emphasized the perfect character of the Law; positing that it is only due to humanity’s sinful nature that the Law would receive the power to kill.47 Furthermore, referring to Augustine, Calvin turns the accusatory nature of the Law into a positive means. The Law is effective in that it shows sinners how they truly are doing without the Gospel. By confronting sinners with their sin, the Law thus drives them to seek God’s grace.48 To be sure, Calvin did not teach that the Law itself suffices to achieve salvation. Salvation is wholly dependent on the grace given through Christ. In Calvin’s understanding, Christ explains the true meaning of the Law and without him the Law is a mere dead “letter.” In this way, Calvin thought the people of Israel were kept in the hope of promised salvation in Jesus Christ, 81

9780567033604_Ch05_Final_txt_print.indd 81

12/19/2000 9:55:39 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

both in the substance of their faith as well as their willingness to wait for such an event.49 Christ, to Calvin, is the “goal” (Rom. 10.4) and the “soul” (2 Cor. 3.16f.) of the Law;50 Christ was shown in shadows of the Law. Thus, for Calvin, the history of salvation can be compared to a diminishing of darkness, a growing of light and finally a revelation of the source of all light itself.51 Though Calvin viewed Christ as essential for salvation, he certainly did not seek to diminish the Old Testament and the Law. On the contrary, the people of the Old Covenant were a part of the eternal covenant; they belonged to the true Church. To Calvin the difference was in intensity, not content. Therefore, the covenants are similar and, in respect to the election of persons to immortality, they are unified. Certainly, Calvin could be said to view the Law as something which is a function of God’s salvational pedagogy for man; indeed, he speaks of it as rule and teacher for humanity. Ultimately, Calvin sought to stress the Law as the Word of God, the word which enables humanity to come to life more than the word which condemns it to death, as in Luther. Regarding the second use of the Law, Calvin spoke about its utilization in restraining evildoers and unbelievers from wrong behavior: “The second function of the law is this: at least by fear of punishment to restrain certain men who are untouched by any care for what is just and righteousness unless compelled by hearing the dire threats of the law.”52 This is the power of government. While the types of government might change over time and from place to place, their function does not. Government for Calvin—whether it was a monarchy as in his French homeland or something approaching an oligarchy in Geneva—was still responsible for limiting sin and punishing malfeasance. However, he did not view this second usage of the Law only in this strict or prohibitory sense. According to Calvin, this second usage creates what might be called a forced righteousness “necessary for the public community of men, for whose tranquility the Lord herein provided when he took care that everything were tumultuously confounded.”53 Calvin also foresaw a pedagogical aspect in this use of the Law. The Law, used in this second context, stops totally sinful humanity in its lustful and contemptuous doings and creates fear in their hearts. This fear is not perfect righteousness, but is, at least, “useful in teaching them true godliness according to their capacity.”54 In this way, Calvin sees God preparing the hearts of humanity for true spiritual regeneration. Only after such preparation can one embrace the benefit of the promises of grace that are bound to the covenant. This forced righteousness then comes alive, in some sense, in the life of a believer. Where it is forced in a stubborn or reprobate sinner, it becomes welcome and alive in the believer, “in whose heart the Spirit of God already lives and reigns.”55 This is Calvin’s third use of the Law. Here the spiritual and political laws come to their fruition, what Calvin calls the Law’s “principal use,” the edification of the believer. While no one can fulfill the Law in 82

9780567033604_Ch05_Final_txt_print.indd 82

12/19/2000 9:55:39 AM

Law and Gospel

its entirety—even the most dedicated Christian will still remain a sinner— nevertheless Christians can strive for greater righteousness and even grow in righteousness. Here the Law no longer just convicts (spiritual) or restrains (political), it now edifies and instructs. It is a “lamp unto my feet and a light to my path,” Calvin writes—quoting from Psalm 18. This lamp and light teach the believer how to serve God in a more meaningful and pleasing manner. The believer, in this sense, now becomes a disciple—one who is disciplined in righteousness.

Conclusion: The Legacy of Law and Gospel Discussions and debates over Law and Gospel continued throughout the Reformation, and the differing theological views became enshrined in the confessions and catechisms of the various movements. Within Lutheranism, a controversy broke out after Luther’s death about whether there should be a third use of the Law in Lutheran teaching. Luther’s closest colleague at the University of Wittenberg, Philipp Melanchthon, had advocated for a third use, but his views met with opposition from other Lutherans. Over the course of many years, Lutherans debated whether the Law was useful and necessary for Christians in light of their justification. In the 1550s, most Lutherans rejected a third use of the Law. However, by the time of the Formula of Concord in 1577, which was intended to settle this and other disputes among Lutherans, a third use of the Law was included with careful qualifications. The third use was considered valid for Christians inasmuch as the old, sinful flesh remains. To the extent that Christians have been reborn, they are spontaneously obedient to God’s will without any coercion. The Formula of Concord also recognized that Christ’s teaching encompassed Law and Gospel, even while it maintained an emphatic distinction between Law and Gospel. Christ’s true purpose was to bring the Gospel, and he used the Law to prepare Christians for the Gospel; thus the church must also preach Law to prepare listeners to hear the Gospel. In the Reformed churches, Calvin’s wholehearted endorsement of the third use of the Law continued to shape the teachings and temperament of that tradition. Chapter 19 of the Westminster Confession, a Reformed confession from the seventeenth century, speaks of the Law as that which informs Christians about the will of God and their duty as God’s people. Accordingly, Reformed churches sought to help their members amend their lives to God’s Law, and a focus on sanctification and ethical behavior became a prominent characteristic of the Reformed tradition. Meanwhile, the major council of the Catholic Reformation, the Council of Trent (1545–63), rejected the Protestant distinction between Law and Gospel. The council insisted that Christ is the redeemer as well as the law-giver who 83

9780567033604_Ch05_Final_txt_print.indd 83

12/19/2000 9:55:39 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

demands obedience. It also maintained the late medieval notion that the observation of the commandments, made possible through grace, is a necessary condition of salvation, thereby rejecting the Protestant position that obedience to the Law contributes nothing to salvation. The concept of Law and Gospel, then, was one of the theological tools that helped Protestant churches define their differences with Catholicism on the important issues of justification and sanctification, and it ultimately became one of many disagreements that would confirm the divisions that the Reformation produced.

Bibliography LW American edition of Luther’s Works. Philadelphia and St. Louis, 1955–86. WA D. Martin Luthers Werke. Kritische Gesamtausgabe. Weimar, 1883–. LCC The Library of Christian classics, vol. XV: Luther’s Lectures on Romans, trans. and ed. Wilhelm Pauck. Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1961.

Primary Sources Kolb, Robert and Timothy J. Wengert (eds). The Book of Concord. The Confessions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2000. Aquinas, Thomas. Summa Theologiae. A Concise Translation, ed. T. McDermott. Allen, TX: Christian Classics, 1991. Melanchthon, Philipp. Loci Communes 1521. Lateinisch-Deutsch, trans. H. G. Pőhlmann. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2nd edn, 1997.

Secondary Sources Bayer, Oswald. Martin Luthers Theologie. Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr Siebeck, 3rd edn, 2007. Bornkamm, Heinrich. Luther and the Old Testament. Mifflintown: Sigler Press, 1997. Braaten, Carl E. Principles of Lutheran Theology. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1983. Gritsch, Eric W. Martin-God’s Court Jester. Luther in Retrospect. Reprint. Ramsey: Sigler Press, 1990. Hinlicky, Paul R. “Luther’s New Language of the Spirit.” In Paul R. Hinlicky (ed.), The Substance of Faith. Luther’s Doctrinal Theology for Today, 131–90. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2008. Hofius, Otfried. Sühne und Versöhnung. Zum Paulinischen Verständnis des Kreuzestodes Jesu. Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr Siebeck, 1989. Kolb, Robert and Charles A. Arand. The Genius of Luther’s Theology. A Wittenberg Way of Thinking for the Contemporary Church. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2008. Lohse, Bernhard. Martin Luther. An Introduction to His Life and Work. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1986. Lull, Timothy. Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1989.

84

9780567033604_Ch05_Final_txt_print.indd 84

12/19/2000 9:55:39 AM

Law and Gospel Mattox, Mickey L. “Luther’s Interpretation of Scripture: Biblical Understanding in Trinitarian Shape.” In Paul R. Hinlicky (ed.), The Substance of Faith. Luther’s Doctrinal Theology for Today, 11–58. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2008. Oberman, Heiko. Forerunners of the Reformation. The Shape of Late Medieval Thoughts Illustrated by Key Documents. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1981. Peters, Albrecht. Commentary on Luther’s Catechisms. St Louis, MO: CPH, 2009. von Rad, Gerhard. Old Testament Theology, vol. I. New York: Harper & Row, 1962.

Further Reading Ebeling, Gerhard. “Reflexions on the Doctrine of the Law.” In Gerhard Ebeling, Word and Faith, 247–81. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1963. —. “Law and Gospel.” In Gerhard Ebeling, Luther: An Introduction to His Thought. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1970. Herrmann, Erik. Why Then the Law? Salvation History and the Law in Martin Luther’s Interpretation of Galatians, 1513–1522 (Ph.D. dissertation, Concordia Seminary, St Louis, 2005). Kolb, Robert. “The Influence of Luther’s Galatians Commentary of 1535 on Later Sixteenth-Century Lutheran Commentaries on Galatians.” Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte 84 (1993): 156–83. Preus, James Samuel. From Shadow to Promise: Old Testament Interpretation from Augustine to the young Luther. Cambridge: Harvard, 1969.

85

9780567033604_Ch05_Final_txt_print.indd 85

12/19/2000 9:55:39 AM

6

Election Chad Van Dixhoorn

Orientation Origins of the Doctrine The doctrine of divine election teaches that God in eternity chose sinners whom he would save through the grace of Jesus Christ. The idea of a predestined people finds its historic origins in the Old Testament, with accounts of God selecting a family line descending from Noah, Abraham and the people of Israel. In the earliest chapters of the Bible, election’s redemptive dimension emerges from the promise of a chosen “seed” that would come from Adam and the lineages of the patriarchs and King David. Emphasis on election is renewed in the New Testament, not least in the prayers and preaching of Jesus. Its clearest soteriological and Christological focus is found in the Pauline Epistles, especially Romans 8 (the latter part), Romans 9 and Ephesians 1. In many ways the early-modern revival of debates over the decrees was rooted in an energetic revival of biblical exegesis in the opening decades of the Reformation. But it was an exegesis informed by a history of debate over the doctrine, especially contests in the fifth, ninth, fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Of these doctrinal disputes, it was Augustine’s battles with the Pelagians that served as the major reference point for the Reformers. Pelagius had placed the full terrifying weight of eternal destiny on the perfect obedience of the Christian. Considering the persistent weakness of humanity, Augustine in contrast argued for the primacy of God’s grace, and therefore divine choice, in reconciling foolish and rebellious sinners to their heavenly judge. Most of the main themes in the history of Western doctrinal formulation find their place in Augustine’s writings. Predestination is no exception to the rule. In his works and letters on predestination, grace, and free will from AD 396 to 429, Augustine argued against the value of human good works as motivations for God’s election, the precedence of divine mercy over human choice, and the responsibility of men and women for their own sin and its consequences. Terminology To define the doctrine of election, predestination, or the divine decrees is to enter into the debate. Nonetheless, in broad outline, the “divine decrees” 86

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 86

12/19/2000 9:57:24 AM

Election

refer generally to God’s plan for ordering all things. The divine decrees have in view the creation of all things, their maintenance, and their direction by God. The decrees also have in view the salvation of some people, and either passing by, or positively condemning, others for damnation. The term “election” is employed broadly by historians, sometimes synonymously with “the decrees,” but certainly not with any regularity. Indeed, an interminable number of taxonomies obtain in the literature, and perhaps the only thing that one can say with confidence is that “election” tends to be a positive term. That is to say, Reformed writers do not usually speak of election to damnation, but to eternal life. “Reprobation,” on the other hand, refers exclusively to God’s choice to send sinners to their natural end—at least “natural” since the fall of humankind into sin—a hell consisting of horrible torments, a banishment from God’s presence, or both. The terms “predestination” and “foreordination” are used variously in the Scriptures and in Reformed theological discourse. In the New Testament, for example predestination (προορίζω) sometimes refers to election only (see Rom. 8.29, 30; Eph. 1.5, 11), but at other times refers to God’s decrees generally (see Acts 4.28; 1 Cor. 2.7). Foreordination (from προγινώσκω), is a rendering perhaps unique to the Geneva and King James Versions of the Bible, and with particular reference to the choice of Christ as mediator (1 Pet. 1.20). Other translations render προγινώσκω as “foreknown” (praecogniti, Vulgate) or “chosen.” “Predestination” is used three ways by sixteenth- and seventeenth-century theologians: (1) as synonymous with the divine decrees; (2) referring to God’s soteriological decrees of election or reprobation only; (3) or restricted to God’s decree to election to salvation (e.g., Heinrich Bullinger). Foreordination, a much less common term, is usually understood to be synonymous with predestination. This is particularly clear in the English translation of Bèze’s, The Treasure of Trueth (1576), which on 14 occasions includes the phrase, “predestined, or foreordained.” At the close of the confessional age of the Reformation, the confession and catechisms of the Westminster assembly (1643–52) provided some stability in English predestinarian vocabulary. In the writings of the assembly, predestination is used in reference to election only, and not to reprobation (Confession of Faith 3.3–5, 8; 10.1), while “foreordination” is used both generally, referring to the divine decrees (Confession of Faith 3.6; Larger Catechism 12; Shorter Catechism 7), and narrowly, referring to reprobation (Confession of Faith 3.3–4; Larger Catechism 13). In this way, the Confession and both catechisms introduce a “soft” distinction of sorts in the way in which predestination and foreordination are used to refer to election and reprobation respectively.

87

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 87

12/19/2000 9:57:24 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

The Doctrine Defined Areas of Agreement Depending on the context, Reformers and their children in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries could spend considerable time emphasizing their differences, and distinctives in the decretal theology of the Reformed continue to be the focus of attention by historians and theologians today. Yet there are significant points of contact or unity between the different strands of predestinarian thought. Few would dispute that in some fashion God ordains whatsoever comes to pass. All that happens in time and eternity is according to the will of the one who made both. All things exist for God’s pleasure, and God will only find pleasure if all things go according to His plan. Likewise, theologians agreed that the plan of God, however that plan was to be understood in its details, was settled from all eternity. So too, God’s plan is unalterable. Sharp disagreements arose over diverging versions of the divine plan precisely because all mainstream sixteenth- and seventeenth-century theologians understood that the decree of God did not change: for that reason they wanted to construct doctrines closely approximating a situation which took into account not only the character of God but also the apparent contingencies of human experience. Finally, everyone agreed that in predestination or election God also had in view creatures that were not human. Usually the doctrine of election is invoked to explain how God has a plan for every person he has made; it is also the case, as Reformed writers pointed out, that he has a plan for every angel. This is a minor note in the Bible’s predestinarian passages, but the point is made clearly enough. Some angels God considers His elect or chosen ones (1 Tim. 5.21); others He has cursed, leaving them with the fires of hell rather than a home in heaven (Matt. 25.41). Standard Qualifiers In addition to these broad areas of agreement, there were also at least three qualifiers that Protestant divines would frequently issue with their doctrine of the decrees, especially after Luther’s famous exchange with Erasmus. In the first place, theologians felt compelled to say that although God is the author of all things, he is not the author of sin. And so while theologians would recall that Jesus told Pilate that he would have no power to crucify him unless it was given from above (Jn 19.11), they would also point out the declaration of the apostle James who would later say, that “God cannot be tempted by evil,” and that God “does not tempt anyone” (James 1.13). This shared belief did not stop combatants from hurling accusations across doctrinal divides, each carrying the dangerous assertion that an opponent’s understanding of predestination left God responsible for human faults. However the accusation only carried weight because the parties in dispute agreed that such an implication was unacceptable because it was dishonoring to God. 88

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 88

12/19/2000 9:57:25 AM

Election

The second qualifier is almost as important as the first, and closely related: in God’s ordering of all things he does not assault the wills of men and women. To invert Proverbs 16.33, “every decision is from the Lord,” but “the lot” is still cast into our own laps. God is sovereign, but in a very real way people are responsible for their actions. The classic biblical text on the subject is found in Acts 2, which describes the Apostle Peter preaching at Pentecost to a vast crowd containing many who approved of Jesus’ crucifixion. There the Apostle stood up and acknowledged that Jesus was “handed over” to them “by God’s set purpose and foreknowledge.” And yet Peter could say with equal authority that they were “wicked men” who put Jesus “to death by nailing him to the cross” (Acts 2.23; cf. Acts 4.27–8). Differences would arise about how, subsequent to this assertion, one was to reconcile a formulation about the freedom and sovereignty of God and the agency and responsibility of human beings. But the tension was only felt because both of these doctrines were taken seriously. The third common qualification to the doctrine of predestination is that God’s plan does not belie the reality of secondary causes. In opposing determinism of all sorts, both Lutherans and the Reformed were interacting with the classical tradition and ancient philosophy as much as the extremes of latemedieval nominalism. Protestants typically argued that God has decided the end from the beginning, but the middle still matters. God not only decides what will happen, but how. Naturally God himself is not limited by natural boundaries that he has established. He can work without or above or against regular means. But when it comes to salvation, this is illustrated most commonly in reflections on the way of salvation, where preaching, the church, and most of all the Savior are all understood to be crucial to the working out of the divine plan. When God decided to save sinners he also decided to save sinners by Jesus Christ. After making that decision, Jesus Christ really did need to be born and to suffer. As a partner in, but also an “effect” of, the decree, Jesus Christ was also a necessary cause of salvation. The reality and necessity of such events are underlined, and not erased, by God’s decree. Of course these were deep waters, but most early-modern theologians were not content to splash in the shallows of theology, not least when these themes were present in Scripture. Whether the boundaries of doctrinal formulation could be pushed past these statements depended on the levels of personal industry and the contentment of one’s confessional community with mysteries beyond human understanding.

Lutheran Formulations The Lutheran community was the first among the Protestant movements to attempt to codify in its confessions a doctrine of predestination. Against the late-medieval background of his own life and ministry, Martin Luther’s 89

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 89

12/19/2000 9:57:25 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

(1483–1546) robust doctrine of election was clearer and better protected from the softening influences of associated doctrines, such as the doctrine of the human will, than anything produced by earlier Augustinian stalwarts like Gregory of Rimini (d. 1358) or Thomas Bradwardine (c. 1295–1349). Although Luther lectured on the subject in 1515 and 1516, it was in order to reinforce the conclusions of his 1525 work on the bondage of the human will (and the freedom of God’s) that Luther first famously articulated his doctrine that “God foreknows and predestines all things, that he can neither be mistaken in his foreknowledge nor hindered in his predestination, and that nothing takes place but as he wills it”.1 It is by God’s will that some are elected to salvation; by God’s will that others are reprobate and destined for destruction. The reformer’s statement of the doctrine combined three strands of thinking that would typify one end of the Lutheran spectrum. First, a pastoral message of comfort in the definitive nature of divine decisions, and thus an assurance of salvation. Second, an extensive understanding of the decree where God willed human sin and salvation, with human beings reaping the credit for the former, and God for the latter. And third, an insistence that the mystery of predestination not be an object of human probing and speculation. The counterpoint to Luther’s doctrine came from Philip Melanchthon (1497–1560), who could not agree that the human will was bound. His interactive perspective on predestination affirmed that God’s grace was responsible for election, but that divinely foreseen human sin and resistance to the Gospel was the cause of reprobation. Melanchthon went further than this in his 1532 Roman commentary, arguing that one “cause of election” is “in him who accepts, namely, in as far as he does not repudiate the grace offered” (Melanchthon, 8). The controversy, waged in the high middle ages and revived with new energy at the Reformation, centered around the idea that God makes His decisions about the world, and especially human salvation, with reference to supposed scenarios and conditions. All Protestant theologians agreed that God knows every possible conditional, every possible “if-then” statement. Melanchthon and his followers, known as Philippists, held out the possibility that God decreed some things because he predicted events in the future. Thus he would choose people for salvation because he knew they were people of faith who would respond positively to the Gospel if it were presented to them. Election was determined in part on human decision and thus the Philippist position was labeled synergistic. The contest was only concluded with the publication of the Formula of Concord (1580). It distinguishes in Article XI between foreknowledge, which is limited to future events (counterfactuals are not mentioned) both good and evil, and predestination, which pertains only to the children of God. The 90

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 90

12/19/2000 9:57:25 AM

Election

decree of God is explicitly distanced from the origin of evil, and it is asserted that “the only cause of condemnation is sin,” the only cause of salvation God’s grace. Paragraphs also assert that God really did determine, and not simply foresee, the salvation of His people, and the idea that something in us caused God to save us is repudiated as “false and incorrect.” And yet people should not see in this an arbitrary divine fiat or abstract determinism leading to hopeless or careless lives. Typical of Lutheran utterances on this subject, theological speculation is discouraged and the doctrine of election is used to comfort God’s people, assuring them that God will never allow anyone to snatch His children from His hand.

Reformed Understandings of the Decree The first and the second generation of Reformed fathers saw themselves as upholding Luther’s more rigorous position on election against synergistic formulations, but at the same time they were reluctant to criticize Melanchthon. Thus when Jean Calvin (1509–64) opposed synergism, he chose as his foil a Catholic apologist. In 1543 Calvin discussed the freedom of the will and in 1552 the doctrine of predestination. On both occasions he had Albertus Pighius (c. 1490–1542) in view. Pighius recognized that one way of reconciling the idea of human freedom and the divine ordering of events is to closely identify predestination and foreknowledge, or rather, to predicate election on a person’s foreseen free response to God’s grace—a position clearly in accord with the Philippists. At this juncture in Protestant history the precise nature of divine foreknowledge was not yet contested; each side in the dispute would agree that Scripture indicates that God has known all things “from the beginning of the world” (Acts 15.18). Indeed, the Reformed were willing to press further the extent of God’s knowledge. In his arguments against Pighius, Peter Martyr Vermigli (1499–1562) argues that God does not only know all that has happened and will happen. He also knows all that could happen. His knowledge is more extensive than His foreknowledge. Vermigli does not supply scriptural support for his argument, but others would, reflecting on passages like 1 Samuel 23. There David posed a series of questions to God, first about King Saul, and then about the townspeople of Keilah, querying whether they would hand him over to Saul if the despot demanded it. The point made by Reformed exegetes is that this line of questioning was not too hard for God, for there is no scenario or counterfactual which God does not already know. But when debating Pighius, the Reformers could not help but turn to the locus classicus of predestination, Romans 9. There the divine announcement is heard, “Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated” even “before the twins were born or had done anything good or bad.” And “I will have mercy on whom I have 91

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 91

12/19/2000 9:57:25 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.” The passage was particularly useful because it brings up the question of human responsibility as Paul anticipates his readers’ response: “why does God still blame us? For who resists his will?” And Paul provides the divine response in the form of two questions: “Who are we to talk back to God?” And “Shall what is formed say to him who formed it, ‘Why did you make me like this?’ ” They concluded that election is God’s free choice only, and that the number of His elect is immune to addition or subtraction. God did not peer into the future in order to find sparks of faith that He could fan into flame. He did not predestine people to salvation because He predicted their good works, or knew they would persevere in the Christian life. There is nothing in human beings that motivated His choice. He set no conditions that He needed to foresee before He would choose the objects of his grace. There was no cause other than His own love that set God in motion toward the salvation of sinners. While citing Luther in their support, there were differences between the German Reformer and his younger counterpart in Geneva. One can detect a willingness among the Reformed to press for a more detailed doctrinal statement than Luther would permit. Calvin thus argues that there is a doublepredestination—God is equally and similarly involved in predestining some to life and others to death. Furthermore, the doctrine of reprobation should not be softened or sidelined by the teachers of the church. Some historical narratives of the doctrine of election read like a roll-call of advocates of reprobation. Reprobation was not the only issue of interest to contemporaries, nor should it be the major feature of note to historians, but it is true that there was historic divergence on the issue among the Reformed. Heinrich Bullinger (1504–75), for example, may prefer, with Luther, to teach only a singly predestination, an election to life; his tendency is to discuss reprobation only when counseling those who fear it, and the pastoral tone in his Decades sets his discussion apart from all others. Strikingly, in his Second Helvetic Confession (1566), Bullinger’s article on predestination does not even mention Romans 9. Wolfgang Musculus (1497–1563), twice quoting Peter Lombard’s Sentences, would only define reprobation as nonelection. But in the formulations of both Calvin and his protégé, Theodore Bèze (1516–1605), God is pleased to display both His mercy in salvation and His judgment in damnation. In teaching a double predestination, Calvin believes that reprobation and election are equally ultimate. They are decrees issued from God, for His glory. But that does not mean that they are parallel in every way. Obviously the two lead to very different ends for human beings. But it is also the case that the two are not analogous when one considers the ultimate and proximate causes of election and reprobation. The ultimate cause of election, Calvin argues, is God’s grace—it has nothing to do with the efforts of human beings. The 92

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 92

12/19/2000 9:57:25 AM

Election

proximate cause of reprobation has to do with our sin, not the pleasure of God—its ultimate purpose is hidden in the will of God. Calvin is confident that God has reason for what He does; His choice is not arbitrary. He rejects reasons supplied by others as inadequate and argues that God’s own glory is a sufficient reason for reprobation, even if not clear to us. Any subsequent inquiries are not profitable. Infralapsarianism and Supralapsarianism Theodore Bèze is perhaps best known for advocating a particular logical order of decrees. He posited that God first decreed to save some people and condemn others (or permit them to remain in their sin), and then decreed the fall and the work of Christ as means to that end. This position is called supralapsarianism, because the decree for salvation logically (but not chronologically) proceeds, or is above, the decree regarding the fall of Adam and the human race. Its perceived strengths lay in a string of ideas: it seemed to leave God supremely responsible for all things, it thus avoided anything even close to synergism, and it provided a reason for the fall. Its weakness, according to its detractors, was that it appeared to make God more closely connected to the problem of evil. The infralapsarianism, which was from the seventeenth century increasingly the position of most Reformed theologians, held that God first decreed or permitted the fall, and then decreed to save some in Christ. The intuitive attraction of this position was that the decrees seemed to “mirror” the sequence of later historical events, where the Fall precedes the promise of the Savior. It also enlists as a benefit the idea that election would never be considered abstractly, since the elect would be considered always and only in Christ. The perceived weakness of infralapsarianism was that it appeared to provide no rationale for the fall. Theoretically, both the supralapsarian and the infralapsarian positions could be constructed in terms of single or double predestination. Furthermore, everyone acknowledged that decrees in eternity could be logically, but not temporally, distinguished. Really, the decree was one, a unity—unless one was a synergist, allowing human events to condition divine decisions. Nonetheless neither these considerations nor the dearth of biblical fuel to fire the debate in any way diminished the heat with which participants communicated on the subject. The Rise of “Arminianism” in England As it happened, about the time that the Lutherans resolved their controversy about synergism, the Reformed began another. A Huguenot exile to England, Peter Baro (1534–99), was appointed Lady Margaret Professor of theology in the University of Cambridge and in 1580 publicly asserted that men 93

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 93

12/19/2000 9:57:25 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

and women could refuse not only the outward call of the preached word, which every minister knew to be obvious, but also the inward electing call of the Spirit, which deeply troubled his Cambridge colleagues. Described by later historians as an Arminian avant la lettre, at the time Baro was seen as a Lutheran-looking synergist of the Philippist stripe, arguing that faith foreseen was a cause of divine election. Advocates of monergistic predestination responded quickly and forcefully, but the very strength with which William Whitaker (1548–95), Walter Travers (1548?–1635), Laurence Chaderton (1536?–1640) and other advocates of monergistic predestination responded was their weakness. As is often the case, to those on the edges or the outside of the dispute, the confidence of the strict predestinarians made them look theologically provincial, their rigor a sign of isolation and, therefore, insignificance. Their attempt to interpret the Church of England’s Thirty-Nine Articles with the predestinarian Lambeth Articles obtained the imprimatur of the Archbishop John Whitgift (1530/31?– 1604), but it did not receive the blessing of Queen Elizabeth or any subsequent monarch. In the meantime, the moderate Puritan, William Perkins (1558–1602), also at Cambridge, was teaching a supralapsarian double-predestination. It was in part the strength of his formulation and the intricacy of his Ramist form of the decrees that sparked the criticism of the Dutch theologian Jacobus Arminius (1559–1609) and his followers, most notably his successor at Leiden, Simon Episcopius (1583–1643). Influenced by Molinism, and Roman Catholic disputes about scientia media, or middle knowledge, Arminius rejected both supralapsarian and infralapsarian positions and promoted the idea that there were four decrees. The Arminian formulation integrated divine foreknowledge of human choice into its decretal sequence, and was quickly identified as yet another type of synergism. After Arminius’s death his followers produced a 1610 remonstrance consisting of five articles which fleshed out some of the implications of his decretal system, including the importance of the human will, the universality of the atonement, the ability to resist God’s grace, and questions regarding the perseverance in the Christian faith. The Synod of Dort Arminian formulations, and especially Arminian understandings of the decrees, drew criticism from theologians in the Netherlands, and a wary interest from theologians in France, Germany, Switzerland, and Britain. Ecclesiastical unrest in the Netherlands resulting from disputes between the Remonstrant and contra-Remonstrant parties was met with an international synod in Dordrecht (1618–19) with delegates from each of these nations, except France. The synod was called less to evaluate the theology of the Remonstrants than to reassure the Reformed world that the Dutch would not 94

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 94

12/19/2000 9:57:25 AM

Election

tolerate Arminianism. It was soon reassured. The Remonstrants were treated like men on trial, rather than parties in a debate. One after another of their five articles was discussed and condemned, including (1) an election contingent upon human faith (the first article); (2) an unlimited but indefinite atonement on the cross, paying for the salvation of all, but only effective for those who believe (the second article); (3) that God’s grace is necessary, but requires human input to be operative (the third and fourth articles); and (4) an uncertain end for believers, with the possibility that they could lose their salvation (the fifth article). What the Formula of Concord was to the Lutherans, the Canons of Dort were to the Reformed, save that the latter were topically restricted to predestination—indeed, they are structured as a point-by-point rebuttal of the Arminian Remonstrance. As the Formula supplemented the Augsburg Confession and Luther’s Catechism, so the Canons served to interpret the Belgic Confession and Heidelberg Catechism. But although King James VI and I (of Scotland and England) supported the participation of the British delegation at the synod and the contra-Remonstrant position in its broad outlines, he would no more entertain the use of the Canons of Dort as a codicil to the Thirty-Nine Articles than Queen Elizabeth would the Lambeth Articles for the same purpose. English Controversies about Election Even after the Synod of Dort, proponents of Reformed theology continued their crusade against Arminianism, not least because of its associations with Roman Catholicism: Luis de Molin (1535–1600) had been received into the Society of Jesus, and in 1607 Molinism was finally permitted by a papal tribunal. Thus in attacking the Remonstrants, Reformed polemicists could conveniently confront Jesuitical and Papist theology as well. But after the death of James, the battle against Arminianism in Britain was waged uphill. English proponents of what historians have infelicitously termed a “Calvinistic,” perspective on the decrees found themselves without the patronage of their prince. Worse, Charles I, his leading bishops, and later Archbishop William Laud (1573–1645), were Arminian in their sympathies and keen to muzzle disputes over the decrees, an opposition extending even to sermons about predestination. Thus when a man of the stature of William Twisse produced responses to Arminius and Arminians, the place of publication had to be in the Netherlands, and not on English soil. The relative importance of the divine decrees as doctrinal reference points in early Stuart England has generated no end of debate. Given the freedom to write, Reformed puritans and their opponents were happy to deforest East Anglia for the sake of their pamphlets on predestination. And even when their discussions were sidelined, or driven underground, the topic remained 95

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 95

12/19/2000 9:57:26 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

significant. Since the late 1980s historians Nicholas Tyacke and Peter White have ruined their own rainforest in publications on puritans and predestination. Tyacke argues that a Calvinist (i.e., predestinarian) consensus best characterizes the Jacobean and early Caroline periods. Archbishop Laud upset the delicate balance that King James had created, thus contributing to the religious problems leading to the English Civil War. Peter White contends that conflict, rather than consensus, over predestination characterizes the early decades of the seventeenth century. Puritans, and their most vigorous opponents, were at fault for aggressive predestinarian preaching, ignoring Laud’s efforts to instill some sanity in the discussion, and thus contributing to the substantial doctrinal dimension of the Civil War. Amyraldianism and Soteriological Antinomianism During the opening decades of the seventeenth century two significant developments took place with respect to theological formulations about the decrees. The first is a “softening” of the decrees among the Reformed in France. Termed Amyraldianism, after Moyse Amyraut (1596–1664), this perspective was initiated by the Scottish theologian John Cameron (c. 1579/80–1625), who was called to teach at the Huguenot seminary at Saumur, in Western France. As with Arminianism, the doctrine of the decrees only encapsulated one aspect of the Amyraldian system, and may not even be the most useful lens through which the school of Saumur can be observed. But in its developed exposition, Amyraldianism objected to supralapsarian and infralapsarian formulations of the decrees, and shifted the decree of election after the decree to appoint Christ as Savior. Indeed, “the object of predestination” in the Amyraldian system “becomes, in effect, redeemed mankind and not merely unfallen or fallen mankind as in the supralapsarian and infralapsarian schemas” (Moore, 218).2 It has long been noted that one aspect of Amyraut’s doctrine is his hypothetically universal doctrine of redemption, indeed, the term “Amryaldianism” has often been used as synonymous with hypothetical universalism. Moore, however, has demonstrated that not all hypothetical universalists are Amyraldians. In fact Irish and English versions precede Cameron’s formulations. Furthermore, prominent hypothetical universalists like James Ussher in Ireland, and Bishop John Davenant and John Preston in England did not oppose one or the other of the traditional decretal categories. Mostly in reaction to Arminianism, but perhaps partly in response to Amyraldianism too, there developed an antithetical position on the decrees within Reformed orthodoxy. These theologians combated Arminianism by conflating the decrees about redemption with the application of redemption. Like the mainstream Reformed orthodox, antinomians opposed the Arminian understanding of faith, which saw it as the believer’s contribution to the Covenant of Grace. Trust in Christ is the “work” that replaces all of the 96

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 96

12/19/2000 9:57:26 AM

Election

law-keeping which people should do (according to an Arminian Covenant of works) but fail to do because of their predisposition toward law-breaking. Most mainstream Reformed authors simply asserted that any construal of faith as a replacement work was essentially a form of legalism or nomism. But going one step further, extreme anti-Arminians, later labeled antinomians, combated Arminianism by positing a justification in eternity and, therefore, a “justification without faith, & faith to be onely [a] manifestation” of justification, as one member of the Westminster Assembly would later describe it (Cambridge University Library, MS Dd XIV.28 (4), fo. 25r).3 In order to protect the complete monergism of the decrees and the doctrine of salvation, these so-called antinomians posited an intentional justification in eternity instead of an actual justification in the lifetime of the person justified. Significantly, in this construction the role of faith is not genuinely instrumental in justification: saving faith simply recognizes an existing justification. It looks not at the cross, but at God’s decree to justification of the elect. Thus redemption is so tightly locked up in eternity that no events in time can touch it—including the Arminian’s faith-work. It is for this reason that sin does not affect the relationship between God the Father and His children, and because of this that some antinomians refused to say the Lord’s Prayer with its petition “forgive us our trespasses.” Arguably, this was an antinomianism that did not reckon rigorously with continuing sin in a believer. But only by extension could one infer that this doctrine stood in opposition to the Ten Commandments or to biblical precepts per se. It often evidenced itself not as a legal, but as a soteriological antinomianism, and would later be blessed with the label of “high Calvinism.” After all, although its exponents confused eternal and temporal categories, the decree with its effect, it is also the case that the fathers of the doctrine, or some variation of the doctrine, included William Pemble (1591/2–1623) and William Twisse (1577/8–1646), champions of orthodoxy and defenders of William Perkins against the Arminians and, in the case of Twisse, against the Molinists too.

Related Issues The Divine Decree as a Central Dogma While attempting to identify the quantity of people holding to the doctrine of predestination, historians may have exaggerated the importance of holding to predestination as a doctrine. Imbedded in the historiographical debate is an assumption inherited from Victorian historians that early-modern theologians held to a coherent system of doctrine, and that the system can be unlocked and explained if one understands its central dogma, or foundational doctrine. There are hints that the doctrine of the decrees is not all-controlling when even William Twisse asserts that “neyther is our doctrine of predestination, 97

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 97

12/19/2000 9:57:26 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

and reprobation that word which we minister eyther for the conversion of the one, or for the reformation of the other, or for the consolation of the third.” His own ministry focuses on “the terrors of the lawe” and “the gracious promises of the Gospell” as a better rubric for preaching and the Christian life (Twisse, 137).4 An early critic of the prominence of predestination is J. K. S. Reid who, speaking of Calvin, “hazarded” the thesis that “contrary to a prevalent view, the doctrine of Predestination by no means determines the system. Though it is indeed attached to and even integrated into the system, the part it plays is not really dominant” (Reid, 9).5 Nonetheless, the idea that predestination was the cornerstone of seventeenth-century Puritan theology has dominated the literature until Richard Muller and other revisionists entered the fray. Richard Muller has argued, using an impressive array of works of systematic theology and printed monographs, that this is not what we see in early-modern texts by Protestants, including Puritans. We almost never see them argue for importance of the Sabbath, or baptism, or justification by faith, or eternal life on the basis of predestination. They argue for and explain each doctrine using a variety of biblical passages. Indeed, their discussions of theology tend simply to topically list stand-alone doctrines individually. There is no evidence of any implicit or explicit central dogma functioning in the thought of early-modern Protestants, Puritan or otherwise. If there was a central dogma or two, it would not be predestination. It would be the doctrine of God, or of Scripture. This observation has not, for the most part, made its way into the historiography of British Puritanism. The doctrine of predestination continues to be considered a phenomenon uniquely owned and employed by the godly. In some sense it was: godly men and women would defend the doctrine when under attack, and preachers would continue to expound it even when it would bring them the wrath of a bishop or his visitor. But arguably the doctrine was not a distinguishing mark of a godly man, and it was certainly not the defining one. Providence Doctrines associated with predestination are many. Theologians usually link it with discussions of the human will. Historians often consider the phenomenon of providence. Predestination and providence are, of course, closely related, and sometimes they are even conflated. But early-modern Protestants usually distinguished the two, seeing divine providence as the outworking of the divine decrees. All Protestants believed in divine providence, which is to say that they believe that God wisely directs all events in history. Perhaps the godly were more assertive about connecting providence to predestination, and were more inclined to comfort each other by assuring them that God had decreed the suffering that they endured. Many were confident about interpreting 98

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 98

12/19/2000 9:57:26 AM

Election

God’s ways in history, and discerning the reasons behind God’s predestined providence. A smaller subset believed that they could actually determine what God wanted them to do in the present by looking back at God’s providence in the past. Certainly not all Puritans would use past events as future guides. But some Puritans used interpretations of providence to run every detail of their lives, and others would add to their confidence of providence a confidence of their special calling. Oliver Cromwell was simply the most famous exponent of a school that felt predestined to do what providence seemed to justify. The Protestant Work Ethic Perhaps the most memorable study of Protestants and election remains Max Weber’s 1905 book, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, where Protestantism is really shrunk into English Puritanism. Weber is interested in those who pursue wealth and gain for its own sake, rather than for necessity. This, for him, is capitalism: not a quest for self-sufficiency but for accumulation. Weber is not so naïve as to “attribute the entire rise of Western capitalism directly to Puritanism” but he does give it a dominant role (Furnam, 2).6 As Weber saw it, Protestants were presented with the doctrine of predestination and an ensuing crisis about salvation with a resulting lack of assurance of salvation. The pastoral response to this problem was to tell the godly to fall back on their own work as a sign of their salvation. One could know if his calling and election were sure since “success in a calling” (by which Weber means one’s weekday vocation) was a sign of spiritual calling (i.e., divine election). Of course Puritan preachers condemned greed and if these condemnations had been heeded, capitalism would not have been born. But the quest for salvation through work was more powerful than the cautions against materialism and thus a particularly strong work ethic emerged in Protestantism. Martin Luther did give a new importance to work when he stressed that it, just like worship, was honoring to God. But it seems that this general principle does not justify Weber’s thesis. This theory, with its easy generalizations and thin base of research, persists in some of the most recent social histories of Puritanism and is experiencing a small revival among sociologists and occupational psychologists. And yet few historians would be willing to see assurance of salvation as a Protestant problem only, or to collapse Protestantism into Puritanism, or to see English Puritanism as the most representative manifestation of even Reformed thought. Significantly, the idea rests in part on the rhetorical force of two different kinds of calling that orthodox divines would carefully distinguish—the one a divine call to salvation, the other a call to serve as a baker or banker. One reason for the plausibility of Weber’s thesis is a subtle elision between these two uses of the word “calling,” which in fact carry substantially different meanings. Furthermore, proponents read 99

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 99

12/19/2000 9:57:26 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

references to “works” in Puritans’ writings and think that they refer to occupational tasks, whereas they usually refer to works of godly devotion. Textbooks and popular histories continuing this line of thought can justly be criticized for a misunderstanding of the Puritan experiences of calling, devotion, and election. They are no more surefooted about the relationship between election, assurance, and work. The case of an obscure Presbyterian London lathe-turner named Nehemiah Wallington illustrates that Puritans were not necessarily motivated to work because of spiritual anxiety about predestination and eternal life. Wallington was anxious about his election to the point of neurosis. He was also deeply concerned to “glorify God in the place and calling wherein God had set him.” The temptation is to relate the two. But the only spiritual reasons why Wallington wanted to work was to give glory to God, and to escape the sin of lust by engrossing himself in his labors. The Londoner found little spiritual assurance in his work, and told his journal that labor done by the godly would “not ease them upon a sickbed, neither comfort them at their hour of death” (Seaver, 124–6).7 Wallington had some spiritual justification for his work, but it had little to do with his spiritual anxieties about election. Assurance Discussions of Puritans, predestination, and work are probably best placed in discussions of the “reflex act” of faith. The “reflex” is a rubric for persons seeking to understand whether they are Christians or, in decretal terms, elect. Theologically, good Protestants knew that personal assurance was rooted in salvation through Christ, and salvation in divine election. Existentially, however, people sometimes doubted their salvation and then in turn wondered if their doubts were signals that they were not elect. The reflex act of faith encourages people to look at the fruits of the Holy Spirit in their own lives. Godly pastors encouraged people to use the same standard and method of judgment to determine if they are Christians that they use in trying to determine whether other people are Christians. If a person is doing good work, it may well be a sign that God is doing his good work in that life. As one Puritan put it, God “writes first all graces in us, and then teaches us to read his handwriting” (in Beeke, 164).8 To some historians this has looked like a form of sophisticated synergism, since confidence about election is being derived from an examination of human graces. Perhaps that is why a seventeenth-century high Calvinist like William Twisse would speculate that the problem of assurance was not so much a theological inquiry as a psychosomatic malady. But most post-Reformation Reformed divines preferred to argue that the grounds for salvation and the grounds for assurance are two different things. Works have no place in meriting the grace of salvation, nor are they foreseen causes of 100

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 100

12/19/2000 9:57:26 AM

Election

election. And yet they can be useful in determining whether one is a Christian. As George Gillespie (1613–48) would explain, “Our best marks can contribute nothing to our justification, but only to our consolation; cannot avail to peace with God, but to peace with ourselves” (Gillespie, 104).9 Nor was this exclusively a matter of British interest. The relationship between election and assurance occupied writers of the Nadere Reformatie or Dutch Second Reformation. And in Geneva, François Turretin (1623–87) would point out that a determination of our election is possible, not a priori of course, but a posteriori—“not by ascending into heaven that we may inquire into the causes of election and unroll the book of life” but rather “by descending into ourselves that we may consult the book of conscience and observing the fruits of election in ourselves, ascend from the effects to the cause” (Turretin, vol. 1, pp. 372–3).10 Dutch-Anglo Puritanism can probably claim some credit for promoting worries about assurance of salvation, but some justification for worrying about election can also be found in the Apostle Peter’s injunction to his readers to “give diligence to make your calling and election sure” (2 Pet. 1.10). Even the reflexive question gains the sanction of usage from Apostle John who tells his readers how they can know that they know Christ (1 Jn 2.3). The Westminster Assembly The last significant creedal statement in the long Reformation was produced by the Westminster assembly. In its chapter on the decrees, and in isolated paragraphs in other chapters, including one on the assurance of salvation, the assembly’s Confession of Faith touches directly or obliquely on each of the disputes in the Reformed tradition, from middle knowledge to eternal justification and the pastoral significance of the doctrine. Double predestination is not expressed, and although various paragraphs privilege elements of the supralapsarian and infralapsarian schemas, neither is confessed to the exclusion of the other. Both in the proof-texts selected for the chapter on the decrees, and in the text of the various sections, the assembly especially emphasized the comfort that the doctrine of election is intended to bring to God’s faithful. The dominant note in the chapter on the divine decrees, and in the scriptural passages selected for citation, is not the glory of God in His judgment of the wicked but the comfort of the righteous. Only God knows the reasons, the details, and the glories of His divine plan. Nonetheless, God determined from eternity that nothing “shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8.39). The assembly closes with a note of caution: predestination is a “high mystery” and needs to “be handled with special prudence and care” (Confession of Faith, 3:8). Both shepherds and sheep need to remember that God has revealed 101

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 101

12/19/2000 9:57:27 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

this doctrine of election primarily to teach us about himself. It is our task as men and women to attend to “the will of God revealed in His Word.” After all, as Deuteronomy 29.29 states, “The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children.” It is the task of His people to focus on the ordinary means of salvation, and to rejoice in God’s grace, His initiative, and His persevering love. A Reader’s Guide to Reformed Texts A concentrated study of Reformation and post-Reformation handling of election might most naturally begin with those treatises dedicated to the subject, almost all of which are polemical. These include Calvin’s De aeterna praedestinatione Dei [Concerning the eternal predestination of God] (1552), Bèze’s Tabula praedestinationis [Table of predestination] (1555) and Jerome Zanchius’s treatise on predestination—a brief work which was created for the city council of Strasbourg, then published as part of the larger corpus of his writing, and then extracted and translated into English by William Perkins (1592). In addition to treatises devoted to the decrees, a reader’s guide to earlymodern discussions of election should point to discussions of associated theological loci, such as the freedom or the bondage of the will, and works on those themes by major Renaissance and Reformation figures, including Erasmus’s De libero arbitrio [The freedom of the will] (1524), Luther’s De servo arbitrio [The bondage of the will] (1525) , and Calvin’s Defensio . . . de servitute et liberatione humani arbirii [Defense of the bondage and the freedom the human will] (1543). Exegetical works also provide an entrée into the subject, with pastors and biblical scholars making significant contributions in sermons and commentaries. Discussions of the decree of election consistently align with biblical texts such as Proverbs 16.33, Isaiah 6, John 10, Romans 9, or Ephesian 1, just as other doctrines align with other biblical texts. For that reason scriptural indices in Reformation and post-Reformation treatises double as subject indices. Indeed, it is probably this exegetical tradition which has best kept Reformed distinctives about election alive through the centuries, permitting a trickledown effect from commentaries to preachers to congregants. Perhaps the most convenient access points for Reformed statements on election are articles or chapters in corporate confessions, or in multitopic treatises like the Institutio of Calvin and Turretin, or the Loci communes [Common places] of Melanchthon, Vermigli, and Musculus. The Legacy of the Doctrine Rarely, outside of dictionaries of theology, is predestination discussed without some adjectival accompaniment. The doctrine is described as harsh or sweet, terrifying or comforting. In modern times it continues to inspire everything from angry diatribes to didactic hymns, many of them recalling the 102

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 102

12/19/2000 9:57:27 AM

Election

exegesis, polemic, and the very wording of Reformation formulations of the doctrine. Scholarly conversations will likely continue over the relative importance of the doctrine in the early-modern period, and in identifying both parties and key proponents in different aspects of later Reformation debate. One encouraging development can be seen in conversations where Calvin (or Karl Barth!) is no longer considered the standard of orthodoxy by which all Reformed theology ought to be measured. But in addition to changed perspectives on the topic, further research is needed too. Since theories of central dogmas have long overshadowed discussion of the decrees, further research is needed especially in the history of exegesis relating to election. As well, with variations of the Weberian thesis somehow still dominating discussion of election and ethics, nuanced studies are needed to investigate questions about predestination and pastoral care, with historians attending to both the anxieties and the comforts generated by the doctrine of election.

Bibliography Primary Sources Bèze, Theodore. Tabula praedestinationis (1555). —. The treasure of trueth (1576). Bullinger, Heinrich. The Decades of Henry Bullinger, ed. T. Harding (2004). Calvin, John. De aeterna praedestinatione Dei (1552). —. Defensio . . . de servitute et liberatione humani arbirii (1543). —. Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. J. T. McNeill and trans. F. L. Battles (1960). Canons of Dort. “The Formula of Concord” in The Book of Concord, eds R. Kolb and T. J. Wengert, trans. Charles Arand et al. (2000). Gillespie, George. The Works of George Gillespie, vol. 2, reprint edn (1991). Luther, Martin. Bondage of the Will, Works, vol. 33, ed. P. S. Watson (1972). Melanchthon, Philipp. Commentary on Romans, trans. F. Kramer (1992). Musculus, Wolfgang. Common Places (1578). Turretin, Francis. Institutes of Elenctic Theology, trans. G. M. Giger, ed. J. T. Dennison, Jr. Phillipsburg: P & R Publishing (1992). Twisse, The Doctrine of the Synod of Dort and Arles (1631). Vermigli, Peter Martyr. Common Places (1574). Westminster Confession of Faith and Catechisms. Zanchius, Jerome. The Doctrine of Absolute Predestination (1930).

Secondary Sources Beeke, Joel R. Assurance of Faith: Calvin, English Puritanism, and the Dutch Second Reformation. New York: Peter Lang, (1991). (Beeke’s study remains the standard for discussions of European, rather than merely English, discussions of election and assurance.)

103

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 103

12/19/2000 9:57:27 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology Furnham, A. The Protestant Work Ethic. London: Whurr, 1990. (Furnham argues for the continuing utility of variations of Weber’s thesis in his own discipline.) Klooster, F. H. Calvin’s Doctrine of Predestination. Grand Rapids: Baker, 1977. Mackinnon, M. H. “The Longevity of the Thesis: A Critique of the Critics.” In Hartmut Lehmann and Guenther Roth (eds), Weber’s Protestant Ethic: Origins, Evidence, Contexts. Cambridge: CUP and German Historical Institute, 1993. Moore, J. D. English Hypothetical Universalism. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007. Muller, R. A. After Calvin: Studies in the Development of a Theological Tradition. New York: Oxford, 2003. —. Christ and the Decree: Christology and Predestination in Reformed Theology from Calvin to Perkins. Durham, NC: Labyrinth, 1986. —. God, Creation, and Providence in the Thought of Jacob Arminius. Grand Rapids: Baker, 1991. Reid, J. K. S. “Introduction,” in John Calvin, Concerning the Eternal Predestination of God. Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1997. Seaver, P. Wallington’s World: A Puritan Artisan in Seventeenth-Century London. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1985. Weber, M. The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism. New York: Scribner, 1958.

104

9780567033604_Ch06_Final_txt_print.indd 104

12/19/2000 9:57:27 AM

7

Sanctification, Works, and Social Justice Carter Lindberg

The plurality of Reformation theologies and the polemical and physical violence of Reformation controversies as well as the long history of their interpretation complicate any effort to outline an essential Reformation understanding of sanctification, works, and social justice. Since the scope of our topic defies brief compass, some notes on my approach may be helpful. I have focused on the so-called Magisterial Reformers, those such as Luther, Bucer, Zwingli, Calvin, et al., whose evangelical movements gained support from magistrates, that is, government authorities, without whose support the Reformers’ theological and social justice agendas could not have been enabled. I am not implying that there was complete theological unanimity among the Magisterial Reformers, but that there was sufficient consensus so that for the sake of space we may present them as a group.1 My argument will be that the Magisterial Reformers opposed the clerical-monastic theology of perfection—the religious vocation of celibacy, poverty, and obedience—and proposed in its stead a new understanding of holiness and social ethics in the world. Apart from a few introductory comments, representative theologians from both the “Radical Reformation” and the medieval tradition are not included. All Reformers—Protestant and Roman Catholic—agreed that the Christian life entailed not only the forgiveness of sin but also a regenerated life of service to God and the neighbor. Yet their disagreements over the relationship of justification and works spilled over into every aspect of Christian theology. A topical approach to these controversies risks glossing theological and social ethical distinctions that were significant enough to Reformation contemporaries that they went to the stake for them. A further risk is the intrusion of issues of present-day ecclesial identities, dogmatic premises, and ecumenical desires.2 A brief overview of the history of our topic may suggest the complexity of our task. Our topic has been a neuralgic one since Luther’s “95 Theses” (1517). His opponents never tired of asserting that Luther opposed good works, and they caricatured him as a fomenter of libertinism. The tone and substance for centuries of suspicion that Luther preached “cheap grace” were set by 105

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 105

12/19/2000 9:57:55 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

his contemporaries. The Christian life, Luther’s evangelical critics claimed, depends upon regeneration.3 In the words of the Hutterite Chronicle: Luther “struck the jug from the pope’s hand but kept the broken pieces in [his] own.”4 By the 1520s, Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt (1486–1541), Luther’s Wittenberg colleague, and Thomas Müntzer (c. 1489–1525), Luther’s erstwhile follower and then vociferous antagonist, forcefully expressed this critique. The fundamental question for Karlstadt was not Luther’s “How do I find a gracious God?” but rather “How can I fulfill the law of God?” Karlstadt’s question runs through consequent spiritual renewal movements from Pietism to contemporary charismatic movements where a fundamental concern is a quest for the power to fulfill the will of God, to advance in sanctification through fulfillment of the Law. “With his theology of rebirth and sanctification, Bodenstein was a forerunner of Pietism.”5 Müntzer, too, emphasized the new obedience of the elect. To Müntzer, Luther’s proclamation of the Christian’s alien righteousness was a “false faith;” Luther preached a “honey-sweet Christ” and called for belief without works. Such “cheap grace” avoids the “bitter Christ” and the discipleship of the cross. The dark side of Müntzer’s obsession with sanctification appeared in his call for the execution of the godless and his activities in the Peasants’ War of 1525. He strove to renew the world on the basis of the inner renewal of the individual.6 For Müntzer the realization on earth of the Kingdom of God receives its impetus from changed hearts; the sanctification of the individual is the basis for the sanctification of society. I have dwelt on Karlstadt’s and Müntzer’s reactions to Luther’s proclamation of justification because their critiques will be repeated up to the present. The theological trajectories of Karlstadt and Müntzer influenced the eighteenth-century Pietist claim that the “first Reformation” initiated in the sixteenth century was incomplete because it was only a reform of doctrine. Pietism thus understood itself as the “second Reformation” or the completion of the Reformation because it focused on the reform of life. The reform of doctrine initiated by Luther must be completed by the reform of the Christian life, by a “theologia experimentalis” (Gottfried Arnold, d. 1714). Without rebirth, justification is a fiction (Christian Hoberg, 1605–75). Later, John Wesley (1703–91) praised Luther for his understanding of justification, but lamented Luther’s ignorance of, or at least confusion about, the doctrine of sanctification.7 Contemporary Roman Catholic theologians repeatedly emphasized that “faith unformed by works of charity was insufficient disposition for grace.”8 In response to the Reformation watchword of “grace alone,” the Council of Trent affirmed the role of human cooperation with grace for salvation. The sixth session, meeting in January 1547, set forth the Catholic teaching on justification in 16 doctrinal chapters and 33 canons condemning errors. Canon 24 condemned the Reformers’ understanding of good works as the consequence rather than the precondition for justification: “If a man says . . . that good 106

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 106

12/19/2000 9:57:55 AM

Sanctification, Works, and Social Justice

works are only the fruits and signs of justification already achieved, not the cause of an increase in justification, then let him be anathema!”9 The attack continued during the Enlightenment when, for example, Voltaire (1694–1778) charged that Calvin and his followers vainly and impudently interpreted St Paul that good works are useless for salvation. More recently, the Roman Catholic philosopher Jacques Maritain (1882–1973) also claimed that for Luther good works are absolutely useless because salvation is by faith alone. In our own time, these centuries of polemics have receded before the arduous process of theological convergence evident in the modern ecumenical dialogues. Yet, while there is a growing Protestant-Catholic consensus that good works are the consequence and fruit of justification, Roman Catholic theology continues to maintain the meritorious character of good works, a position not accepted by Protestant theologians.10 Reformation theology sparked so much heated and long lasting controversy because the “Reformation features [of justification] are mould-breaking and cannot be described as just one possible position within the medieval theological system . . .”11 “We do not become righteous by doing righteous deeds but, having been made righteous, we do righteous deeds.”12 A generation later, Calvin agreed: “[J]ustified by faith is he who, excluded from the righteousness of works, grasps the righteousness of Christ through faith, and clothed in it, appears in God’s sight not as a sinner but as a righteous man.”13 Our justification before God “must be believed and cannot be obtained by any work, law, or merit.”14 “Luther’s new understanding of the gospel and the completely new status of the doctrine of justification in fact gave the whole of theology a new orientation and the church a new structure; this was a paradigm shift [author’s emphasis] par excellence.”15 Such a paradigm shift, as Luther stated in Thesis 40 of his disputation on John 1:14 requires speaking a new language.16 The “linguistic innovation”17 inserted new meaning into the relationship of “grammar and grace;”18 communion and communication are inseparable.19 Instead of the sanctification- and works-oriented “if . . . then” language construction, the Reformation proclaimed a gospel-oriented “because . . . therefore” construction. The Gospel, rightly spoken, involves no ifs, ands, buts, or maybes of any sort. It does not say, “If you do your best to live a good life, God will fulfill that life,” or, “If you fight on the right side of the great issues of your time . . .” or, “If you repent . . .” or, “If you believe . . . .” It does not even say, “If you want to do good/repent/believe . . . .” The Gospel says, “Because the Crucified lives as Lord, your destiny is good.”20 Among the many contemporary clear visual representations of the “mouldbreaking” of the Reformation, its “new language,” are images of “the world turned upside down,” propagandistic woodcuts such as the “Ständebaum” 107

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 107

12/19/2000 9:57:55 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

(tree of social estates), Lucas Cranach’s “Passional Christi und Antichristi,” and his Wittenberg Altarpiece.21 The first three of these images express the New Testament theme of the great reversal of the first and the last, the rich and the poor, the powerful and the weak. As such these images express yearnings and depictions of social justice as well as theological reform. In “The World Turned Upside Down” the church is pictured on its steeple, laity are at the altar and clergy are working the field. The “Passional Christi und Antichristi” sharply contrasts the servant ministry of Christ to the papal greed and usurpation of worldly authority. And the “Ständebaum” or “Tree of Estates” reverses the traditional understanding of estates or social classes by depicting peasants as the foundation and crown of society, above even pope and emperor. The altarpiece of the Wittenberg City Church portrays the positive expression of these social and theological criticisms. The central panel of the altarpiece portrays the Reformation understanding of the Lord’s Supper as a communion of Christ and the congregation instead of a priestly sacrifice watched by the congregation. The participants painted around a circular communion table are members of the local parish, and the action is depicted in a way that draws viewers into it. For the Reformers the Eucharist is the source and impetus for social ethics, “the liturgy after the liturgy.” “Now there is no greater service of God [gottis dienst; Gottesdienst = worship] than Christian love which helps and serves the needy, as Christ himself will judge and testify at the Last Day, Matthew 25[.31–46].”22 “The world would be full of worship if everyone served his neighbor, the farmhand in the stable, the boy in the school, maid and mistress in the home.”23 Bucer, influenced by Luther’s “The Freedom of a Christian” (1520), began his ministry in Strasbourg by expressing his conviction that the reform of worship includes the renewal of community life in his “That No One Should Live for Himself but for Others, and How We May Attain This” (1523).24 Likewise for Calvin “social and economic behavior is neither an autonomous sphere of human life, nor just an optional addendum; it is a vital part of the Christian worship of God.”25 The new theological grammar and vocabulary of the Reformers turned the theological and ethical world upside down. “The Reformation movement and particularly Luther were concerned with the re-creation of a language capable of giving voice to the voiceless, . . . of constituting knowledge for empowerment, because the Word communicates in the medium of language(s).”26 As Doug Marlette, the late Pulitzer Prize-winning editorial cartoonist for the Atlanta Constitution, noted: “A healthy society depends upon the freedom to express ideas and opinions. A common denominator of all dictators and CEOs is the awareness that information is power. If you can control the information, you can control the people.”27 In breaking the old mould of language, the Reformers liberated people from “institutional mediations that controlled the access to the sacred, to life, and to the people.”28 The “new language” of grace 108

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 108

12/19/2000 9:57:55 AM

Sanctification, Works, and Social Justice

alone attacked the medieval clerical-monastic ideals of sanctification epitomized in the religious vocation of celibacy, poverty, and obedience. These virtues, known as evangelical counsels, called the religious elite—priestly and monastic—away from the world to a higher religious plane. The clerical religious vocation was to achieve merit not only for themselves but also for others by contributing their excess merit to the treasury of grace from which the church could dispense grace to those lacking sufficient merit. However, the clerical ideal of sanctity and works was beyond the reach of the laity who were perceived as second class citizens in the church. The Reformers’ approach to vocation was a major break from this medieval tradition. Prior to Luther the word “vocation” was reserved for the specific religious life of priest, monk, or nun. Luther’s emphasis that every Christian belongs to the priesthood of believers freed vocation from its narrow religious definition. Christian vocation is no longer understood as a meritorious work for salvation but rather as being called by God to participate in the ongoing work of Creation. Vocation is not outside the sphere of everyday life but precisely in the midst of everyday life. Christians are not called to other-worldly holiness but rather to this-worldly service. Since, the Reformers proclaimed, our worth as persons is not dependent on what we do but on who we are, all the energy and material resources that the medieval Christian directed to religion are now freed for worldly activity for the sake of others. The Reformers proclaimed that God does not call the Christian out of the world but into it. Therefore, persons are not called to extraordinary tasks but to mundane ones. This led to a religious revaluation of ordinary work that is perhaps more easily grasped in German than in English. In German, words for “gift” and “word” are incorporated in the words for “duty” and “responsibility.” Gabe means gift and Aufgabe means duty. Thus duty carries within it the element of gift; work in the world reflects God’s gift that such work is necessary for the common good but is not salvatory. The same is true in the relations of the German words Wort (word), Antwort (answer), and Verantwortung (responsibility). In all three, “word” is present. The Word of God calls forth the human answer which encompasses everyday responsibilities. “Thus we have it that faith justifies without any works; and yet it does not follow that men are therefore to do no good works, but rather that the genuine works will not be lacking. Of these the work-righteous saints know nothing. They dream up works of their own in which there is no peace, joy, confidence, love, hope, boldness, or any of the qualities of true Christian work and faith.”29 “Our faith in Christ does not free us from works but from false opinions concerning works, that is, the foolish presumption that justification is acquired by works.”30 “So the Christian who is consecrated by his faith does good works, but the works do not make him holier or more Christian, for that is the work of faith alone. . . . The following statements are therefore true: ‘Good works 109

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 109

12/19/2000 9:57:56 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

do not make a man good, but a good man does good works; evil works do not make a wicked man, but a wicked man does evil works.’ ”31 In short, faith is to be active in love.32 The contribution of the Reformation understanding of vocation was to break the hold of the religious elite upon vocation and to democratize vocation as faith active in love. Vocation encompasses all human relationships at once in the sense that a person may be a daughter, mother, wife, citizen, worker, student, and so on, at the same time. Human life is a web of relationships, the many strands of which are anchored in the center of the forgiveness of sins. Vocation is practiced in these relationships of life; and this means that there is a “God-givenness” to life specific to the particular relationships and talents of each person. The human tendency to devalue what is close at hand and to seek to do something extraordinary is precisely what the Reformers attacked in the medieval understanding of vocational (i.e., religious) vows. In medieval theology, mundane God-given tasks such as being a parent were considered “lower” and less holy than self-chosen works assumed to please God and merit sanctification. Calvin stated “that the Lord, in order to better call us away from inventing new works, has included the entire praise of righteousness in simple obedience to his will. [Thus] . . . one can readily judge that all feigned acts of worship, which we ourselves invent to deserve God’s favor, are not at all acceptable to him, no matter how well they may please us.”33 An other-worldly orientation led to neglect of the tasks at hand; tasks that include not only service in the church but in marriage and government. “Above these three institutions and orders is the common order of Christian love, in which one serves not only the three orders, but also serves every needy person in general with all kinds of benevolent deeds, such as feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, forgiving enemies, praying for all men on earth, suffering all kinds of evil on earth and so on. Behold, all of these are called good and holy works. However, none of these orders is a means of salvation. There remains only one way above them all, viz. faith in Jesus Christ.”34 That is why Luther always chose examples of vocation from daily life: the father washing smelly diapers, the maid sweeping the floor, the brewer making good beer. These activities are concrete forms of serving the neighbor. The point is that people are not called to assume extraordinary works but only to be faithful to their God-given capabilities and relationships. The Bible has been put into your workshop, into your hand, into your heart. It teaches and preaches how you should treat your neighbor. Just look at your tools—at your needle or thimble, your beer barrel, your goods, your scales or yardstick or measure—and you will read this statement inscribed on them. . . . 110

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 110

12/19/2000 9:57:56 AM

Sanctification, Works, and Social Justice

“Friend, use me in your relations with your neighbor just as you would want your neighbor to use his property in his relations with you.”35 Good works are not salvatory, but they do serve the neighbor. Since works are not ultimate but penultimate activities of the sinner saved by the justifying God, they are this-worldly rather than other-worldly, directed to the neighbor as a response to God’s promise.

Vocation and Celibacy The concomitant of the proclamation of justification by grace alone apart from works is a “doxology of the ordinary.”36 Luther and his followers rejected every form of flight from the world with its suspicion of Creation. Humankind is not called to flee the world but rather to engage the world for the common good. The Reformers rejected the medieval church’s suspicion of sexuality as the font of original sin as well as the view of the celibate life as a meritorious work contributing to salvation. The concrete demonstration of the new faith very soon became clerical marriage. This was not just a matter of breaking church law; rather, the public rejection of mandatory clerical celibacy encompassed the new evangelical understanding of the relationship to God and the world. Here, too, the rejection of the self-chosen holiness of celibacy was an expression of social justice against clerical womanizing captured in the woodcut by Leonhard Beck, “Monk and the Maiden” (1523) in which a monk has seduced a peasant’s daughter and is tricking the peasant into selling the daughter to the monk.37 Every priest should be free to marry because “before God and the Holy Scriptures marriage of the clergy is no offense.” Clerical celibacy is not God’s Law but the pope’s, and “Christ has set us free from all man-made laws, especially when they are opposed to God and the salvation of souls. . . .” Thus the pope has no more power to command celibacy than “he has to forbid eating, drinking, the natural movement of the bowels, or growing fat.”38 “No institutional change brought about by the Reformation was more visible, responsive to late medieval pleas for reform, and conducive to new social attitudes than the marriage of Protestant clergy. Nor was there another point in the Protestant program where theology and practice corresponded more successfully.”39 Clerical marriage was a “paradigm shift” away from a “piety of achievement” that served as a “demystification” of the Church, Creation, and human sexuality.40 The application of evangelical theology to marriage and family desacramentalized marriage; desacralized the clergy and resacralized the life of the laity; opposed the maze of canonical impediments to marriage and to divorce; strove to unravel the tangled skein of canon law, imperial law, and customs; and joyfully affirmed God’s good Creation, including sexual relations. 111

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 111

12/19/2000 9:57:56 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

With marriage and the household estate came multiple responsibilities to the larger community and vice-versa. “Marriage does not only consist of sleeping with a woman—anybody can do that—but of keeping house and bringing up children.”41 Those who followed Luther saw in marriage not only a new joyous appreciation for sexual relations, but also a new respect for women as companions. Luther could not imagine life without women: “The home, cities, economic life and government would virtually disappear. Men cannot do without women. Even if it were possible for men to beget and bear children, they still couldn’t do without women.”42 The Reformers sought to redefine what their society thought appropriate for male and female behavior. For example, medieval society and theology sanctioned prostitution and civic brothels. Prostitutes were thought to purify a town by draining off excess male sexual energy like a sewer drained off waste.43 The medieval church tolerated prostitution because its gender values denigrated sex and also assumed that male desire was an anarchic, uncontrollable force that if not provided an outlet would pollute the town’s respectable women. Luther’s criticism of this rationale attacked his culture’s gender presupposition concerning males. In asserting equal responsibility for males and females, Luther criticized the double standard of his day as well as the existence of brothels.44 The Reformers attempted to redefine their culture’s understanding of male gender from uncontrollable impulse to social responsibility. They likewise opposed the medieval practice of clandestine marriage. The canon law that “consent makes the marriage” allowed abuses of minors who entered marriage without parental consent as well as deceptions of women. The Reformers opposed secret betrothals without the consent of the parents and the public support of the community because they saw that it was the woman and her children who were at risk of being discarded with no rights. In these arrangements to live together, the woman could not file suit for her rights if the man left her. Luther stated clearly: “A secret engagement should yield to a public one.”45 “Marriages” without communal and legal validation led to legal, economic, and pastoral problems. Such arrangements undercut the communal stake in family life. Marriage and family life are Christian callings that testify, in contrast to the theology and laws of the medieval church, that home and discipleship are not mutually exclusive. For the Reformers, it is precisely in marriage that chastity is possible, and religious vocation finds its realization. To the medieval person, vocation was limited to priests, nuns, and monks. The thought that persons could serve God in marriage was revolutionary. Justification by grace alone apart from works liberated Christians from achieving salvation by renunciation of the world, and enabled service to the neighbor in the world. The neighbor here is the person encountered in the concrete situation, that is, parents, spouse, and children. 112

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 112

12/19/2000 9:57:56 AM

Sanctification, Works, and Social Justice

The perennial temptation of the religious person is the desire to do “important” things rather than sweep the floor, change diapers, and do the dishes. Luther’s point, however, is that we are not called to self-chosen extraordinary tasks, but rather to service in the world. We err in that we judge the work of God according to our own feelings, and regard not his will but our own desire. . . . Now observe that when that clever harlot, our natural reason . . . takes a look at married life, she turns up her nose and says, “Alas, must I rock the baby, wash its diapers, make its bed, smell its stench, stay up nights with it, take care of it when it cries, heal its rashes and sores, and on top of that care for my wife, provide for her, labor at my trade, . . . and whatever else of bitterness and drudgery married life involves? . . . It is better to remain free and lead a peaceful, carefree life; I will become a priest or a nun and compel my children to do likewise.”46 The center of the Reformers’ ethic of vocation is not self-sanctification, but the neighbors’ needs. “[E]veryone must benefit and serve every other by means of his own work or office so that in this way many kinds of work may be done for the bodily and spiritual welfare of the community, . . .”47 The Christian is called to live and serve others wherever God has placed him or her. Thus, it may be said that for the Reformers “vocation is the work of faith; vocation is worship in the realm of the world.”48

Poverty: Social Welfare and Economics A major social issue on the eve of the Reformation was widespread poverty exacerbated by the rapid, unrestrained growth of the profit economy and legitimated by the medieval church’s sanctification and idealization of poverty as the preferred condition of Christian life. Hence the religious vow of poverty was understood as a sanctifying work. Also, poverty was perceived as a kind of spiritual capital for poor and rich alike. God’s preferential option for the poor gave them a decided edge in the pilgrimage to salvation (the rich can no more squeeze through the eye of the needle into heaven than can a camel). On the other hand, the Church had long emphasized that almsgiving atones for sin. Thus almsgiving provided the poor with some charity, enabled the rich to atone for their sins, and blessed the rich with the intercessions of the poor. This symbiotic relationship of rich and poor is succinctly expressed by the ancient line: “God could have made all men rich, but he wanted poor men in this world so that the rich might have an opportunity to redeem their sins.”49 The economy of salvation as well as the economy of the market place promoted the perpetuation of poverty. The poor were not only the object for the good works of the 113

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 113

12/19/2000 9:57:56 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

wealthy, they were also a large and inexpensive labor pool. Since, however, the actual poor were always a risk for almsgiving—how could you know if your alms was going to a “professional” beggar rather than an honest poor person, or not going for drink and gambling—most alms went directly to the clergy, monks, and institutions of the church which had taken the vow of poverty. The laity’s anger at the social injustice of monastic siphoning of alms from the involuntarily poor is depicted by a 1521 broadsheet by Hans Sebald Beham, “Allegory of Monastic Orders.” A monk—who in spite of his vow of poverty is held by the allegorical figures of Pride, Lust, and Greed—is forcefed the Bible, the Word, by a poor peasant urged on by the allegorical figure of Poverty. Monastic wealth and exploitation of the poor in the person of the monk is forced to face the truth in spite of the fact that he has already discarded another Bible that is pictured at his feet.50 The laity influenced by the Reformation perceived that the Word directly addressed social injustice. The Reformation doctrine of justification by grace alone apart from works cut the nerve of the medieval ideology of poverty. Since salvation is God’s free gift, both poverty and almsgiving lose saving significance. The de-sanctification of poverty allowed recognition of poverty as a personal and social evil. Justification by grace alone caused a paradigm shift in the understanding of poverty; it enabled movement beyond an individual’s charity to consideration of the systemic roots of poverty. Poverty, I say, is not to be recommended, chosen, or taught; for there is enough of that by itself, as He says (Jn 12.8): “The poor you always have with you,” just as you will have all other evils. But constant care should be taken that, since these evils are always in evidence, they are always opposed.51 The poor are no longer to be the objects of meritorious charity, but neighbors to be served through justice and equity. Under the rubrics of justice and love to the neighbor, the Reformers moved in alliance with local governments to establish and legislate government social welfare policies.52 The first major effort was the Wittenberg Church Order of 1522 that established a “common chest” for welfare work. Initially funded by expropriated medieval ecclesiastical endowments and later by taxes, the Wittenberg Order prohibited begging; provided interest-free loans to artisans, who were to repay them whenever possible; provided for poor orphans, the children of poor people, and poor maidens who needed an appropriate dowry for marriage; provided refinancing of high interest loans at four percent annual interest for burdened citizens; and supported the education or vocational training of poor children. The Wittenberg common chest was a new creation of the Reformation that transformed theology into social praxis. Its financial basis soon included sales of grain, public collections, and a primitive banking operation. These resources enabled it to exercise a broad spectrum of social 114

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 114

12/19/2000 9:57:56 AM

Sanctification, Works, and Social Justice

welfare including care of the sick and elderly in hospitals, a medical office for the poor, and support of communal schools. Other communities quickly picked up these ideas. By the 1530s social welfare legislation took root in the Reformation cities of Leisnig, Augsburg, Nuremberg, Altenburg, Kitzingen, Strasbourg, Breslau, Regensburg, and Zurich. These ordinances for poor relief were efforts to implement the Reformers’ conviction that social welfare policies designed to prevent as well as alleviate poverty are a Christian social responsibility. While the Reformers’ efforts to develop welfare legislation were well received in the cities and territories that accepted the Reformation, efforts to encourage civic control of capitalism gained little support. Luther discovered it was easier to motivate assistance to the poor than to curb the economic structures and practices that created and fostered the conditions of poverty. “How skillfully Sir Greed can dress up to look like a pious man if that seems to be what the occasion requires, while he is actually a double scoundrel and a liar.”53 “God opposes usury and greed, yet no one realizes this because it is not simple murder and robbery. Rather, usury is a more diverse, insatiable murder and robbery. . . . Thus everyone should see to his worldly and spiritual office as commanded to punish the wicked and protect the pious.”54 Luther found the calculating entrepreneur extremely distasteful. He was convinced that the capitalist spirit divorced money from use for human needs and necessitated an economy of acquisition. From his Sermon on Usury (1519) to his Admonition to the Clergy That They Preach against Usury (1540), Luther consistently preached and wrote against the expanding money and credit economy as a great sin. After the devil there is no greater human enemy on earth than a miser and usurer, for he desires to be above everyone. Turks, soldiers, and tyrants are also evil men, yet they allow the people to live. . . . But a usurer and miser-belly desires that the whole world be ruined in order that there be hunger, thirst, misery, and need so that he can have everything and so that everyone must depend upon him and be his slave as if he were God.55 Such usury, Luther argued, affects everyone. “The usury which occurs in Leipzig, Augsburg, Frankfurt, and other comparable cities is felt in our market and our kitchen. The usurers are eating our food and drinking our drink.” By manipulating prices “usury lives off the bodies of the poor.” “The world is one big whorehouse, completely submerged in greed,” where the “big thieves hang the little thieves” and the big fish eat the little fish. Thus Luther exhorted pastors to condemn usury as stealing and murder, and to refuse absolution and the Sacrament to usurers unless they repent.56 While Calvin was not so colorful in his condemnations, he too condemned any business that exploited 115

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 115

12/19/2000 9:57:56 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

people. “Calvin warned that the tendency of usury is always to oppress one’s neighbor. In other words, the spirit of neighborly love must dominate such business transactions as the lending of money. For this reason he refused to set any one rate as legitimate interest. Each case must be judged separately, and in the case of the poor and needy all interest is wrong when it oppresses people.” 57 “The Genevan catechism, reprinted throughout Europe, instructed children in the evils of ‘making a living from our neighbor, be it by fraud or violence’ or any ‘schemes, designs, and deliberations’ to ‘enrich ourselves at our neighbor’s expense.’”58 Luther’s concern was not only about an individual’s use of money, but also the structural social damage inherent in the idolatry of the “laws” of the market. Ideas of an “impersonal market” and “autonomous laws of economics” were abhorrent to Luther because he saw them as both idolatrous and socially destructive. He saw the community endangered by the rising financial power of a few great economic centers; their unregulated economic coercion would destroy the ethos of the community. Calvin shared Luther’s antipathy toward Europe’s great commercial centers.59 To Luther and Calvin early capitalism was doubly dangerous because it not only exploited people but also strove to conceal its voracious nature and to deceive people. Luther and then Calvin appealed for government regulation of business practices and of interest rates at about five percent.

Obedience: Reformation and Politics As with the vows to celibacy and poverty, the vow of obedience gained its power from the conviction that it is a meritorious work that sanctifies the clergy and contributes to salvation. Here, too, the Reformation proclamation of justification by grace alone undercut this vow. While the clerical vow was to ecclesial superiors, it is important to remember that in the medieval church, abbots, bishops, and the pope were also political figures whose ideology was that the political realm is subject to the laws of the Church. The Augsburg Confession (1530), the fundamental confessional document of the Lutheran churches, also accepted by Calvin, provided an evangelical orientation to questions of civil obedience. “[I]t is taught that all political authority, orderly government, laws, and good order in the world are created and instituted by God and that Christians may without sin exercise political authority; be princes and judges; pass sentences and administer justice according to imperial and other existing laws; punish evildoers with the sword; wage just wars; serve as soldiers; buy and sell; take required oaths; possess property; be married and so on.”60 The article then goes on to condemn both those who claim these worldly activities are unchristian and those who claim that Christian perfection is possible only if such activities are renounced. 116

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 116

12/19/2000 9:57:56 AM

Sanctification, Works, and Social Justice

Furthermore, “The Gospel does not overthrow secular government, public order, and marriage [weltliche Regiment, Polizei und Ehestand] but instead intends that a person keep all this as a true order of God and demonstrate in all these walks of life [Stände] Christian love and true good works according to each person’s calling. Christians, therefore, are obliged to be subject to political authority and obey its commands and laws in all that may be done without sin. But if a command of the political authority cannot be followed without sin, one must obey God rather than any human beings (Acts 5[.29]).”61 While all the Reformers asserted obedience to constituted governing authorities, they were all also “resistance movements” in their opposition to government imposition of Roman Catholicism. As Luther demonstrated at the Diet of Worms (1521) when he refused the papal and imperial demand to recant, civil disobedience was an option for the Reformers and their followers. They believed that when secular authority demands actions against the Gospel, Christians are called to passive resistance. By 1550 a theological defense for resisting tyranny developed in the city of Magdeburg as it faced imperial pressure to renounce the Reformation. In turn, the Magdeburg Confession influenced subsequent theological-political resistance movements throughout the Continent, in the British Isles, and reaching the American colonies.62 Equally, if not more significant, the clear affirmation that salvation is received freely from God alone and is not achievable through social-political programs of either the left or the right de-ideologized politics. The Reformers realized that politics is not redemptive and the Bible is not a blueprint for the great society. The Kingdom of God is not achievable through political programs, social programs, or through military might. Thus Luther rejected all “crusades” in service of ideological and utopian political dreams and their concomitant nightmares. Luther’s rejection of a crusading mentality is all the more remarkable because his society was directly threatened by Islamic jihad. “To a large degree, the Turkish threat was so terrifying because many Germans understood the conflict between the Hapsburg and Ottoman Empires to be a struggle not between two political powers but between the forces of Christendom and that of its archenemy, Islam.”63 In 1526, Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent (r. 1520–66) destroyed the Hungarian army and nobility at the battle of Mohacs and placed much of Hungary under Ottoman suzerainty. Then in 1529, he again moved against Central Europe in a campaign that ended with the famous siege of Vienna. This context highlights Luther’s rejection of a Christian crusade against the Turks as well as his call for national repentance and self-examination. Luther’s denunciation of the crusade was an important historical contribution to the development of Christian responses to Islam. 117

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 117

12/19/2000 9:57:56 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

“Luther’s opposition to the crusade became embedded in early Protestantism and should be regarded as an important contribution and development in the period. . . . No crusade or holy war was permissible. This represents a significant point of departure from the mainstream of medieval theology.”64 One of Luther’s greatest achievements was his recognition that the call to legitimate struggle against the Turkish threat was not to be equated with a conflict between Islam and Christianity.65 Luther’s hermeneutics of suspicion in relation to temporal authority included a profound suspicion of war. While never a pacifist, Luther opposed revolution as well as war on the basis that it is always the innocent who suffer the most. He consistently held this position against armed conflict from the Wittenberg unrest of 1521–2 through the Knights’ Revolt of 1523 and the Peasants’ War of 1524–5. In his 1526 tract, “Whether Soldiers, Too, Can Be Saved,” Luther wrote: “At the very outset I want to say that whoever starts a war is in the wrong.”66 And in his “Commentary on the Sermon on the Mount” (1521), he asserted that “anyone who claims to be a Christian and a child of God, not only does not start war or unrest; but he also gives help and counsel on the side of peace wherever he can, even though there may have been a just and adequate cause of going to war.”67 In his1530 “Commentary on Psalm 82,” Luther wrote: “One must not begin a war or work for it; it comes unbidden all too soon. One must keep peace as long as one can, even though one must buy it with all the money that would be spent on the war or won by the war. Victory never makes up for what is lost by war.”68 Luther’s profound suspicion of rulers—“a prince is a rare bird in heaven”—was matched by an equally profound suspicion of “Mr. Everyman” for, as Luther was fond of saying, “mundus vult decipi”—“the world wants to be deceived.” The Reformers realized that in politics as in theology, the depth and pervasiveness of sin is ignored at our peril. The Reformers understood themselves as pastors and theologians not as politicians, but that in no way minimized or limited their pastoral and theological concerns for the secular realm of political decisions and involvement. The effects of political decisions on persons were included as an essential component of the commission to proclaim the Gospel to the world and to emphasize to persons in their various positions of authority their obligations and responsibilities to their neighbors. Political problems were understood as religious challenges that must be investigated in terms of their expressions of the will of God. For Luther, the religious challenge of political problems was to be met in the pulpit. Luther epitomized what is known in classical and biblical studies as “frank speech.” He did not hesitate to apply his “apocalyptic strategy of exposure by confrontation” in the pulpit as well as in tracts for the time. For Luther a function of preaching is “to unmask hidden injustice, thus saving the souls of duped Christians and opening the eyes of the secular authorities for 118

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 118

12/19/2000 9:57:56 AM

Sanctification, Works, and Social Justice

their mandate to establish civil justice.”69 Preaching promotes transparency. In a 1529 sermon, Luther stated: Christ has instructed us preachers not to withhold the truth from the lords but to exhort and chide them in their injustice. . . . We recognize the authority [of government], but we must rebuke the Pilates in their crime and self-confidence. Then they say to us, “You are reviling the majesty of God,” to which we answer, “We will suffer what you do to us, but to keep still and let it appear that you do right when you do wrong, that we cannot and will not do.” We must confess the truth and rebuke the evil. There is a big difference between suffering injustice and keeping still. The Christian must bear testimony for the truth and die for the truth. But how can he die for the truth if he has not first confessed the truth?70 Thus the “unmasking” of injustice and “opening the eyes of secular authorities” is not done in a corner but in the preaching office, “in the congregation,” “openly and boldly before God and men.”71 “To rebuke rulers is not seditious, provided it is done . . . by the office to which God has committed that duty, and through God’s Word, spoken publicly, boldly, and honestly. . . . It would be far more seditious if a preacher did not rebuke the sins of rulers; for then he makes people angry and sullen, strengthens the wickedness of the tyrants, becomes a partaker in it, and bears responsibility for it.”72 “For a preacher is neither a courtier nor a hired hand. He is God’s servant and slave, . . . He is to do what is right and proper, not with a view to favor or disfavor, but according to law, that is, according to God’s Word, which knows no distinction or respect of persons.”73

Conclusion The Reformers took seriously the task of world-building and the maintenance of culture, society, and civilization, but always with the conviction that every culture, every system of justice, and every political structure is only relative and instrumental for the humanization of people. Tradition is to be conserved with insight into its dehumanizing aspects and its penultimacy. Reason and love are to be active in the continual task of socialization in the recognition that God—not the Law, not the past, not the State, not even the Church—is sovereign in history. Faith alone grants the security to live within the human insecurity of relative structures. By faith persons can avoid the defensive sanctification of past, present, or future goods and values. Faith is the enabling ground of the person who is content to be human and to let God be God. The consequences of this for sanctification, works, and social justice are profound. Sanctification is not understood as a growth in intrinsic holiness but 119

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 119

12/19/2000 9:57:56 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

rather in terms of vocation, that is, God’s calling to live in the world in service to others. Vocation serves the common good—social welfare and political involvement to build community. The Reformation understanding of justification freed people from preoccupation with salvation thereby freeing personal energy and material for service to the neighbor. In freeing persons from preoccupation with the quest for sanctification, Reformation theology liberated them from self-chosen and self-imposed works or “virtues” (celibacy, poverty, obedience). It freed people for social and political action through the knowledge that these activities are neither “dirty” nor salvatory, but opportunities for faith active in love to serve the common good.

Abbreviations BC Robert Kolb and Timothy J. Wengert (eds). The Book of Concord. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2000. Inst. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, John T. McNeill, ed. and Ford Lewis Battles, trans., 2 vols. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1960. LW Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut T. Lehman (eds), Luther’s Works (Philadelphia: Fortress Press and St Louis, MO: Concordia Press, 1955–). WA D. Martin Luthers Werke (Weimarer Ausgabe, 1883–1955).

Bibliography Arnold, Matthieu. “Martin Luther, Theologe der Nächstenliebe.” Lutherjahrbuch 78 (2008): 67–90. Bagchi, David V. N. Luther’s Earliest Opponents: Catholic Controversialists, 1518–1525. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1991. Bayer, Oswald. Living By Faith: Justification and Sanctification. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2003. Bubenheimer, Ulrich. “Andreas Rudolff Bodenstein von Karlstadt.” In Wolfgang Merklein, ed., Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt, 500-Jahre-Feier, 5–58. Karlstadt: Arbeitsgruppe Bodenstein, 1980. Cummings, Brian. The Literary Culture of the Reformation: Grammar and Grace. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. Dommen, Edward and James D. Bratt (eds). John Calvin Rediscovered: The Impact of His Social and Economic Thought. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2007. Ebeling, Gerhard. Luther. An Introduction to His Thought. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress, 1970. Ehmann, Johannes. “Türken und Islam—Luthers theologisches Unterscheidung. Überlegungen zu ihrer Aktualität,” Luther, 2 (2007): 89–94. Geisberg, Max (ed.). Der deutsche Einblatt-Holzschnitt in der ersten Hälfte des 16. Jahrhunderts. Munich: H. Schmidt, 1923. Goertz, Hans-Jürgen. Innere und Äussere Ordnung in der Theologie Thomas Müntzers. Leiden: Brill, 1967.

120

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 120

12/19/2000 9:57:57 AM

Sanctification, Works, and Social Justice Grell, Ole Peter and Andrew Cunningham. Health Care and Poor Relief in Protestant Europe 1500–1700. London and New York: Routledge, 1997. Gritsch, Eric and Robert Jenson. Lutheranism: The Theological Movement and Its Confessional Writings. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1967. Hamm, Berndt. “What was the Reformation Doctrine of Justification?” In C. Scott Dixon (ed.), The German Reformation. The Essential Readings, 53–90. Oxford: Blackwell, 1999. Hendrix, Scott. “The Reform of Marriage in Calvin’s Geneva.” In David M. Whitford (ed.), Caritas et Reformatio: Essays on Church and Society in Honor of Carter Lindberg, 113–31. St Louis, MO: Concordia, 2002. Hillerbrand, Hans J., “Radicalism in the Early Reformation: Varieties of Reformation in Church and Society.” In idem (ed.), Radical Tendencies in the Reformation: Divergent Perspectives, 25–41. Kirksville, MO: Sixteenth Century Journal Publishers, 1986. —. “The Road Less Traveled? Reflections on the Enigma of Lutheran Spirituality.” In Daniel N. Harmelink (ed.), Let Christ be Christ: Theology, Ethics & World Religions in the Two Kingdoms. Essays in Honor of the Sixty-Fifth Birthday of Charles L. Manske, 129–40. Huntington Beach, CA: Tentatio Press, 1999. Hutterian Brethren (trans. and ed.). The Chronicle of the Hutterian Brethren, vol. 1. Rifton, NY: Plough Publishing House, 1989. Küng, Hans. Great Christian Thinkers. New York: Continuum, 1995. Leith, John H. John Calvin’s Doctrine of the Christian Life. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1989. Lindberg, Carter. Beyond Charity: Reformation Initiatives for the Poor. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 1993. —. “Do Lutherans Shout Justification But Whisper Sanctification?” Lutheran Quarterly 13 (1999): 1–20. —. “Luther’s Struggle with Social-Ethical Issues.” In Donald K. McKim (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Martin Luther, 165–78. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. —. “No Greater Service to God than Christian Love: Insights from Martin Luther.” In Foster R. McCurley (ed.), Social Ministry in the Lutheran Tradition, 50–68. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2008. —. The European Reformations, 2nd rev. edn. Oxford: Wiley Blackwell, 2009. Lindberg, Carter (ed.). The Reformation Theologians. An Introduction to Theology in the Early Modern Period. Oxford: Blackwell, 2002. Marlette, Doug. Shred This Book!, 156. Atlanta, GA: Peachtree Publishers Ltd., 1988. McKee, Elsie Anne. John Calvin on the Diaconate and Liturgical Almsgiving. Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1984. —. “The Character and Significance of John Calvin’s Teaching on Social and Economic Issues.” In Edward Dommen and James D. Bratt (eds), John Calvin Rediscovered: The Impact of His Social and Economic Thought, 3–24. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2007. Miller, Gregory J. “Fighting Like a Christian: The Ottoman Advance and the Development of Luther’s Doctrine of Just War.” In David M. Whitford (ed.), Caritas et Reformatio: Essays on Church and Society in Honor of Carter Lindberg, 41–57. St Louis, MO: Concordia, 2002.

121

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 121

12/19/2000 9:57:57 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology —. “Luther on the Turks and Islam.” In Timothy J. Wengert (ed.), Harvesting Martin Luther’s Reflections on Theology, Ethics, and the Church, 185–203. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004. Moeller, Bernd. “Wenzel Links Hochzeit: Über Sexualität, Keuschheit, und Ehe in der frühen Reformation.” Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 97 (2000): 317–42. Mollat, Michel. The Poor in the Middle Ages: An Essay in Social History. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1986. Oberman, Heiko A. “Teufelsdreck: Eschatology and Scatology in the ‘Old Luther’.” In idem, The Impact of the Reformation, 51–68. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1994. Opocenský, Milan and Páraic Réamonn (eds). Justification and Sanctification in the Traditions of the Reformation. Geneva: World Alliance of Reformed Churches, 1999. Ozment, Steven. The Age of Reform 1250–1550. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1980. Rossiaud, Jacques. Medieval Prostitution. Oxford: Blackwell, 1995. Streiff, Stefan. “Novis linguis loqui” Martin Luthers Disputation über Joh 1,14 “verbum caro factum est” aus dem Jahr 1539. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1993. Vajta, Vilmos. Die Theologie des Gottesdienstes bei Luther. Stockholm: Svenska Kyrkans Diakonistyrelses Bokförlag, 1952. Valeri, Mark. “Religion, Discipline, and the Economy in Calvin’s Geneva.” Sixteenth Century Journal 28/1 (1997): 123–42. Wandel, Lee Palmer. Always among Us: Images of the Poor in Zwingli’s Zurich. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990. Westhelle, Vitor. “Communication and the Transgression of Language in Martin Luther.” In Timothy J. Wengert (ed.), The Pastoral Luther: Essays on Martin Luther’s Practical Theology, 59–84. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2009. Whitford, David M. Tyranny and Resistance: The Magdeburg Confession and the Lutheran Tradition. St Louis, MO: Concordia, 2001. Whitford, David M. (ed.). Caritas et Reformatio: Essays on Church and Society in Honor of Carter Lindberg. St Louis, MO: Concordia, 2002. Witte, John, Jr. From Sacrament to Contract: Marriage, Religion, and Law in the Western Tradition. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1997. —. Law and Protestantism: The Legal Teachings of the Lutheran Reformation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. —. The Reformation of Rights: Law, Religion, and Human Rights in Early Modern Calvinism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007. —. “Prophets, Priests, and Kings: John Milton and the Reformation of Rights and Liberties in England.” Emory Law Journal 56/6 (2008): 1527–1604. Witte, John, Jr and Robert M. Kingdon. Sex, Marriage, and Family in John Calvin’s Geneva, vol. 1: Courtship, Engagement, and Marriage. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2005.

122

9780567033604_Ch07_Final_txt_print.indd 122

12/19/2000 9:57:57 AM

8

The Sacraments Bryan Spinks

The Latin rendering of the Greek term “mysterion” as sacramentum is first attested by Tertullian. In many ways this would prove to be an unfortunate choice, since the Latin word already carried the meaning of a military oath, and this secular meaning would in turn encourage a narrower definition than the Greek word probably implies. The wide definition of what constituted a sacrament is attested by Hilary of Poitier, Augustine of Hippo, and Hugh of St Victor. However, in the Sentences, Peter Lombard taught that something is called a sacrament because it is a sign of God’s grace, and is such an image of invisible grace that it bears both its likeness and exists as its cause. Lombard listed seven rites which exhibited this: baptism, Eucharist, penance, confirmation, orders, marriage and extreme unction. William of Auxerre would use Aristotelian concepts to define a sacrament as having a materia (matter) and forma (form, formula). The result was that medieval scholastic teaching on sacraments often centered on quasi-philosophical definitions and canon law, and taking on a quasi-metaphysical existence, became somewhat detached from the liturgical rites with which they were actually celebrated. Furthermore, deriving from disputes in the twelfth century, the “change” in the Eucharistic elements so that bread and wine could be the true body and blood of Christ was termed transubstantiation, which was given official status at the Lateran Council of 1215. It was left to St Thomas Aquinas to give an explanation of the change which avoided crass “magical” or gross carnal ideas. The Reformation divines inherited the late medieval Catholic definitions and numbering of sacraments. The Catholic Reformation, as represented by the Council of Trent, reiterated belief in seven sacraments. Thus Canon 1 stated: If any one saith, that the sacraments of the New Law were not all instituted by Jesus Christ, our Lord; or, that they are more, or less, than seven, to wit, Baptism, Confirmation, the Eucharist, Penance, Extreme Unction, Order, and Matrimony; or even that any one of these seven is not truly and properly a sacrament; let him be anathema.1 Trent defended the salvation given in baptism, that the mass was a sacrifice, and that the elements of bread and wine underwent a change which is termed 123

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 123

12/19/2000 9:58:40 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

“transubstantiation.” Furthermore, all the sacraments, rightly celebrated and rightly received, conveyed grace: If any one saith, that grace, as far as God’s part is concerned, is not given through the said sacraments, always, and to all men, even though they receive them rightly, but (only) sometimes, and to some persons; let him be anathema.2 The treatment of sacraments by the Protestant Reformers was very different, but would be a cause of controversy and division among themselves.

Martin Luther and Wittenberg In his work The Babylonian Captivity of the Church (1520) Martin Luther launched an attack upon the received definition and number of sacraments. In this work Luther argued that for a rite to be a sacrament, it had to have been instituted by Christ, and he decided therefore that only three of the traditional seven—baptism, Eucharist, and confession/absolution counted as sacraments. He attacked the Aristotelian framework and the prevailing ex opere operato concept of sacraments, which canon law seemed to promote. What was crucial was that the divine warrant or Word was the same as a promise, so that sacraments were rites to which God’s promise was attached. He tried to steer a middle course between, on the one hand, the idea that sacraments contained some hidden spiritual power, and on the other, that they have no power or grace within them. Rejecting both, he argued that they are signs which have attached to them a word of promise, requiring faith (verbum promissionis, quod fidem exigat).3 In baptism God is the doer, and justification is given, but it is not the rite itself, but faith in the word of promise. Against those who stressed conscious faith as a necessary requisite in baptism, Luther replied that faith was a gift of God, and it is impossible to know if infants have that gift or not, and adults who profess it, might not endure in the faith. What was important was to trust in the promise, which was attached to the water of baptism and the pronunciation of the triune formula from Matthew 28.19. On the subject of the Eucharist, Luther attacked the idea that the mass was a sacrifice that the priest offered to God and which could be offered for certain intentions or benefits. For Luther, it was a gift which we receive from God. Although he conceded that in certain contexts the term sacrifice might be used (such as that we offer a sacrifice of praise) he suggested that the term “Testament” was better. In A Treatise on the New Testament (1520) Luther explained that the testator is Christ, the heirs, Christians; the testament—the words of institution spoken by Christ; the seal, the bread and wine; and the bequeathed blessings, forgiveness of sins and eternal life.4 Luther insisted in a true presence in, with and 124

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 124

12/19/2000 9:58:41 AM

The Sacraments

under the bread and wine, and this would be a major sticking point between Wittenberg and Zurich. Luther certainly rejected the medieval Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation, mainly on the grounds that its philosophical basis was not only inappropriate, but constituted poor philosophy. He noted that consubstantiation made better sense. However, he did not teach consubstantiation, but a true bodily presence. Jesus said “This is my body,” and God does not lie. What God promises, that he gives. Here Luther took the “is” to be the force of the promise. In answer to how the Risen and Ascended Christ could be both in heaven and in bread and wine, Luther appealed to a doctrine of ubiquity—that the risen body could be anywhere. Less clear was his teaching on penance, which in The Babylonian Captivity of the Church is listed as a sacrament, and then subsequently set apart from baptism and the Eucharist. He found a promise in Matthew 18.18, and taught that anyone who made a true confession was forgiven. The pronouncing of absolution is not reserved for the clergy, but may be given by any baptized person. Although Luther had outlined changes he deemed necessary to reform the mass in his 1519 and 1520 writings (such as the omission of anything that suggested the mass was offered to God), he took no steps to provide his own liturgical reforms until 1523, when he published a mass in Latin (Formula missae) and a baptismal rite in German. In the former the most notable feature is the removal of the old “Little canon” or offertory prayers, and the whole of the canon missae or old Roman Eucharistic Prayer.5 In place of the latter Luther gave a fixed preface leading to the institution narrative (preferably intoned) followed by the Sanctus as a climax. In other words, the promise—the words of institution—are center stage. In the baptismal rite we find some simplification had taken place, but he retained such things as putting salt in the infant’s mouth, spittle and clay on the ears and the nose, and anointing with oil. These he regarded as adiaphora—things indifferent that were not mandated but not forbidden in Scripture. What he did remove was a blessing of the water, since all that was required was trust in the Divine Word. Further reforms came in 1526. A German mass replaced some of the Latin texts which was chanted with German paraphrases, and the words of institution were to be intoned in the same tone as the one used to chant the Gospel reading. This parity is explained by Luther’s remark that the words of institution are a summary of the Gospel, or the Gospel in a nutshell. In the 1526 baptismal rite the ceremonies of anointing, spittle and salt were removed, but Luther retained the clothing of the infant in the white robe. Luther provided a form of confession in 1529, and in the 1531 edition of his Small Catechism, an expanded form of auricular confession was given, with an absolution “As thou believest, so be it unto to thee. And I, by the command of Jesus Christ our Lord, forgive thee all thy sin in the name of the Father and 125

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 125

12/19/2000 9:58:41 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, Amen. Go in peace.” The rite retained a semi-sacramental status. More interestingly, the one rite that Scripture called a sacrament (mysterion)—marriage—was not counted as a sacrament by Luther, but in its subsequent codification, Lutheran canon lawyers gave it a semisacramental status too.6

Ulrich Zwingli and Zurich Luther found himself battling on two fronts—against the Roman Catholic view of ex opera operato grace and transubstantiation on the one hand; and on the other, those who he named the “Schwärmer” (enthusiasts/fanatics); among the latter was Ulrich Zwingli, one of the Reformation leaders of the city of Zurich. Zwingli was a humanist scholar, and embraced a Neoplatonism which drew a wedge between the spiritual and the physical, the eternal and the finite, and in sacraments, between the sign and the signified. Although knowledgeable of Greek, Zwingli preferred to pursue the Latin definition of sacramentum as a military oath. He likened those rites that could be counted as sacraments to the livery worn by soldiers. According to Zwingli, “a sacrament is nothing else than an initiatory ceremony or a pledging. For just as those who were about to enter upon litigation deposited a certain amount of money, which could not be taken away except by the winner, so those who are initiated by sacraments bind and pledge themselves, and, as it were, seal a contract not to draw back.”7 This definition colored Zwingli’s teaching on baptism. He rejected original guilt, and held original sin to be a disease to which humans are prone. Baptism was not primarily about removing sin, but was the means of entry into the Church. It requires faith, which is imparted by the Spirit to the soul. At some stage in 1524 Zwingli had made comments that were interpreted by the Anabaptists as siding with them and rejecting infant baptism. Zwingli addressed this “misunderstanding,” and defended infant baptism by analogy to circumcision in the Old Testament. Just as male infants were circumcised because their parents were members of the covenant, so the infants of Christians may be baptized because the parents are members of the new covenant. Baptism comes as part of the family ticket of admission. This was a considerable difference from Luther for whom baptism was mainly about remission of sins and justification by faith through grace. Zwingli’s definition of sacraments as a pledging was difficult to extend to the Lord’s Supper. On this issue, he regarded the Supper as a memorial which reminded the believers of their faith in Christ’s salvific work, and was a means of fellowship, or to use more contemporary parlance, the Eucharist makes the Church.8 However, because of his Neoplatonist dualist wedge between the spiritual and the physical, he utterly rejected not only transubstantiation, but also any concept of presence in the Eucharistic elements. He was influenced 126

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 126

12/19/2000 9:58:41 AM

The Sacraments

by the work of a Dutch lawyer, Cornelius Hoen, who had argued that in the statement “This is my Body,” the Latin “Hoc est corpus meum” should be understood as “Hoc significant corpus meum.”9 The fact that Jesus almost certainly spoke Aramaic, which would have had no separate word for “is,” renders this debate rather superfluous for contemporary scholars. However, in spite of his knowledge of Hebrew and Greek, Zwingli was persuaded by many of Hoen’s arguments. For Zwingli, John 6 was the important Eucharistic text, and the bread and wine at the Lord’s Supper were symbolic memorials which reminded Christians of the absence of Christ. This has been characterized as “symbolic memorialism.”10 Like all the Reformers, he rejected the idea that the mass was a sacrifice that the Church offered to God. The Baptismal rite in Zurich was first reformed in 1523, being the work of Leo Jud. This rite was very closely patterned on Luther’s 1523 rite, and had retained anointing with oil, as well as giving of salt, the spittle, and signing of the cross. Jud’s rite was replaced by a form written by Zwingli in May 1525.11 It began with a statement/title: “Now follows the form of baptism which is now used in Zurich, and all additions, which have no foundation in the word of God, have been removed.” The ceremonies retained by Jud were discarded, and a much shorter service provided. Godparents were retained, probably because of the force of custom and the social importance of godparents, but with his idea of covenant, it was the parents who were crucial for the baptism, and godparents were theologically superfluous. The baptismal formula was “N, I baptize you into the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”; Zwingli was quite insistent on the literal rendering of the Greek είς, which suited his concept of sacrament as a pledging.12 Zwingli produced a revision of the mass in 1523 entitled De Canone Missae Epicheiresis. It is not clear whether this was for use, or for discussion. It attacked the canon missae as a product of late antiquity because of its poor style of Latin; in fact, its style of Latin attests to its early date! The Zurich humanist Reformer replaced the canon missae with four prayers. The first ended with an offering of prayer and praise in the form of the Lord’s Prayer, and the second reveals something of Zwingli’s theological hand—our souls which are made in the image of God must be fed with spiritual food, which is given by His Word. In April 1525 a much more radical reform was carried through. The normal Sunday service was no longer the mass or Lord’s Supper, but a service of the Word derived from the medieval preaching service called Prone. The rite for the Lord’s Supper, Action oder Brauch des Nachtmahls, was to be used four times a year, at Easter, Pentecost, September 11 (the feast of the patron saints of Zurich) and Christmas. The first part of the service was a simplified version of the mass, retaining the Gloria in excelsis, but placed between the epistle reading and Gospel, and it retained the creed. A prayer asking for the church to be the body of Christ was followed by the recitation of the institution narrative. Lee 127

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 127

12/19/2000 9:58:41 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Palmer Wandel has drawn attention to the woodcuts that accompanied the printed liturgy. Christ is seated at an ordinary table surrounded by the apostles. This Eucharistic rite was based upon the idea of the church as the body of Christ, at ordinary table and ordinary bread and wine.13 Bruce Gordon has suggested that in this rite, the moment of feeding takes the person out of the locality to become part of Christ’s eternal body which is the church.14 But whatever may be conveyed in the liturgical rites, Zwingli’s teaching suggested that sacraments are not channels of the Spirit to give grace, for the Holy Spirit needed no channel. At the very best, sacraments can only be signs of grace already given. Luther and Zwingli thus both demanded that the Catholic Church needed to be reformed. However, they were sharply divided on their sacramental teaching. An attempt to give the Protestant Reformation a united front against Rome was made at the Colloquy of Marburg in 1529. It was hoped that a faceto-face conference between Luther and Zwingli, with others to mediate, would result in some common agreement. Although they found much to agree upon, the sticking point was on the interpretation of the words “This is my Body.” Luther insisted that Christ intended what he said, and that Christ was really present in the elements of bread and wine. For Zwingli, the words were not to be taken literally, but rationally, and thus the elements only symbolized the body and blood of Christ. For Luther, his interpretation was non-negotiable. The failure to agree at Marburg led to two prominent protestant groupings: the Wittenbergers, or Lutherans; and the Swiss or Reformed. Zwingli’s approach was broadly shared by the Oecolampadius of Basel and Guillaume Farel of Bern. Zwingli was to die on the battlefield at Cappel in 1531, and his mantle fell on Heinrich Bullinger. Although not accepting Luther’s position, other Reformed divines, particularly Martin Bucer and John Calvin, felt that Zwingli’s position was inadequate, and they sought to develop a sacramentology that they hoped might bridge the gap between the Reformed and the Lutherans.

Martin Bucer and Philip Melanchthon Martin Bucer was a Dominican priest, and initially aligned himself with Luther and the Wittenbergers. He arrived in Strasbourg in 1524 and took part in the Reformation of the city, and remained there until the Interim in 1548 when he went to England and become Regius Professor of Divinity at Cambridge. Although initially a “Lutheran,” by 1524 he had adopted the dualism of Zwingli and Oecolampadius. However, he was an ardent ecumenist, and after his experience as an observer at the Colloquy of Marburg was inspired to find the compromise that had eluded Luther and Zwingli. Scholars such as Peter Stephens and René Bornert suggest that we can find 128

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 128

12/19/2000 9:58:41 AM

The Sacraments

two important periods of sacramental thinking in Bucer.15 The years 1523–30 are characterized by the sort of dualism found in Zwingli, where the interior working of the Spirit is sharply divided from the exterior sacrament. The years 1530–51 show a trend to bring the inward and outward closer together and integrated. This may be illustrated from his Grund und Ursach, 1524, in which he denied that God binds grace to water in baptism, and on the Lord’s Supper, “The Lord has given nothing bodily in holy communion except eating and drinking, and that for the sake of the spiritual, that is, his remembrance.”16 However, after the Marburg experience, he attempted to draw together “sign” and “thing signified,” and came to regard sacraments as not just external signs, but as instruments and channels. Sacraments present, offer, give, and communicate the spiritual gifts which the faithful receive by faith.17 Already by 1527 he had started to use the term exhibere/ furtragan, which would become a key term, and in the context he used it, could only mean confer, bestow, or impart. Sacraments become means of communication of the Holy Spirit and grace. He was able to endorse the Wittenberg Concordat drawn up by Philip Melanchthon in 1536. Although Lutheranism takes its name from Martin Luther, the Wittenberg reformer did not act alone, but with a number of colleagues, and in particular Philip Melanchthon and Johannes Bugenhagen. Melanchthon’s contribution was particularly important, and just as Bucer attempted rapprochement from the “Reformed” camp, so Melanchthon attempted the same from the Lutheran camp. In his 1521 Loci Communes, Melanchthon preferred to use the term “signs” or “sacramental signs,” since he regarded Christ as the one Sacrament. There were two signs instituted by Christ, to wit, baptism and the Table of the Lord.18 They consist of signs and words, and the words are the promise of grace. Baptism is primarily the sacrament of penance, and signifies mortification of the flesh and a renewal of the Spirit. Whereas the baptism of John testified that grace was to come, Christ’s baptism testified that grace has come, and that the promise of grace has been promulgated. Melanchthon treated penance as a reiteration of the baptismal absolution from sin. The Eucharist was given short treatment. Participation of the Lord’s Table is the “chewing of Christ’s body and the drinking of his blood, and is a sure sign of grace.”19 He repudiated any idea that the mass was a sacrifice offered to God. Melanchthon was mainly responsible for the 1530 Augsburg Confession, which spelt out the beliefs of the Evangelical Church, that is, Lutherans. In this document, based firmly on Luther’s writings, baptism is stated as being necessary and that grace is offered through it. In the Supper “the true body and blood of Christ are really present . . . under the form of bread and wine and are there distributed and received.”20 The Confession also noted that sacraments were not instituted only to be signs by which people might 129

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 129

12/19/2000 9:58:41 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

be outwardly identified as Christians (Zwingli), but they are signs and testimonies of God’s will toward us to awaken and strengthen our faith. It was Melanchthon who drew up the Wittenberg Concordat that Bucer and a number of Reformed churchmen had signed. This taught that “with the bread and wine the body and blood of Christ are truly and essentially present, distributed, and received.” For Bucer, the “with” was the important word, but he did not see this as interchangeable with the term “under” and “in” as the Lutherans did. Luther had signed this, but Melanchthon’s continued willingness to try to find some compromise resulted in deep suspicions of him by the so-called Gnesio-Lutherans, such as Matthias Flacius, who felt any departure from Luther’s literal words was a betrayal. Melanchthon came to be regarded by some as a crypto-Calvinist, and Bucer would be regarded by many Reformed as a crypto-Lutheran. The Formula of Concord, 1577, in which Martin Chemnitz had a key role, was a document to clarify “Lutheran” belief. Of the Eucharist it particularly noted that there are two ways in which Christ may be “eaten.” The first is spiritual, as in John 6.48–58, and the other is oral or sacramental, “when all who eat and drink the blessed bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper receive and partake of the true, essential body and blood of Christ orally.”21

Heinrich Bullinger and John Calvin: Two Divergent Strands in Reformed Teaching Bullinger was born in 1504 (the son of a priest!) near Zurich, and had studies at Cologne University. He first met Zwingli in 1524, though he had already espoused Reformation doctrine by that date. He claimed to have arrived at his sacramental views by reading Augustine and the Waldensians. Whereas Zwingli believed the Church was the subject of sacraments, Bullinger believed Christ was the subject. But like Zwingli, he stressed the symbolic nature of sacraments, and sharply divided the sign and the signified. Brian Gerrish has characterized this as “symbolic parallelism” where the sign and the signified may be parallel, but do not actually coincide. Thus at baptism, the thing signified may not happen until long after baptism. After Zwingli’s death, Bullinger became the effective spokesperson for the Zurich Church, and whatever his nuanced differences with Zwingli, Bullinger felt obliged to defend Zwingli’s sacramental stance. Bullinger would not sign the Wittenberg Concordat, and instead was instrumental in drawing up the First Helvetic Confession 1536, as a counter document. Article XXI recognized two signs that are called sacraments. Article XXIII denied that the body and blood of the Lord are united with the bread and wine, or included locally with them, or bodily present in them. Bullinger was to defend Zwingli’s position against Luther in 1545, and in the same year he wrote his Absoluta de Christi Domini et Catholicae eius Ecclesiae 130

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 130

12/19/2000 9:58:41 AM

The Sacraments

Sacramentis, which would form the section on sacraments in his Decades. He preferred to speak of sacraments as seals, like wax on a document. Elements (bread, wine, water) become seals, but do not change substance. Rather different was the developing thought of John Calvin. As a young scholar he had completed his first edition of the Institutes of the Christian Religion at Basle in 1536. After passing through Geneva, he was persuaded by Farel to stay as Teacher. Both were expelled in 1538, and Calvin became pastor of the French congregation in Strasbourg, where he came under the influence of Bucer. He returned to Geneva in 1541. In the 1536 Institutes the young Calvin taught that a sacrament never lacks a preceding promise, and is attached to the promise to confirm and seal it. He takes over Zwingli’s language of sign and seal, but combines it with Luther’s idea of promise. In baptism, sins are washed and we are made righteous by imputation. Ministers are ministers of the outward rite, but Christ is the minister of inward grace. In the Eucharist the body and blood of the Lord are represented under bread and wine. However, he rejected the position of those who insisted that Christ was “really” or “substantially” present. Having arrived in Geneva and working with Farel, whose sacramental theology was more in the orbit of Zurich and Bern, his writings between 1537 and 1539 show an increased tendency to distinguish between the outward and the inward, as in the earlier Bucer, and Farel.22 However, after his stay in Bucer’s Strasbourg, he seems to have come under Bucer’s influence, and the mature Calvin parts company with the Zurich symbolic parallelism in favor of what Gerrish calls “Symbolic Instrumentalism.”23 He wrote in the later 1559 Institute 4.14.12: God uses the means and instruments which he sees to be expedient, in order that all things may be subservient to his glory, he being the Lord and disposer of all. Therefore, as by bread and other ailment he feeds our bodies, as by the sun he illumines, and by fire gives warmth to the world, and yet bread, sun, fire are nothing, save inasmuch as they are instruments under which he dispenses his blessings to us; so in like manner he spiritually nourishes our faith by means of the sacraments, whose only office is to make his promises visible to our eye, or rather, to be pledges of his promise. The sacramental signs are instruments, which themselves do not cause anything, but which God uses to give the reality he promises. They become instruments of grace. For Calvin, what is promised is also exhibited, and he uses various forms of “exhibere” some 17 times in discussing sacraments in the 1559 Institutes. Thus he could write, “in the mystery of the Supper, by the symbols of bread and wine, Christ, his body and blood, are truly exhibited to 131

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 131

12/19/2000 9:58:41 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

us . . .”24 Surprisingly, on the subject of the Supper, he spoke of “a true and substantial communication of the body and blood of Christ.”25 His mature doctrine is represented in summary in the Confessio Fidei Gallicana, 1559. Article XXXIV asserted: We believe that the sacraments are added to the Word for more ample confirmation, that they may be to us pledges and seals of the grace of God, and by this means aid and comfort our faith, because of the infirmity which is in us, and that they are outward signs through which God operates by his Spirit, so that he may not signify any thing to us in vain. Yet we hold that their substance and truth is in Jesus Christ, and that of themselves they are only smoke and shadow.26 Article XXXV asserted that in baptism we are grafted into Christ, and Article XXXVI, that the Supper is a witness to the union we have with Christ. By the secret and incomprehensible power of his Spirit he feeds and strengthens us with the substance (de la substance) of his body and his blood. And Article XXXVII explained: We believe, as has been said, that in the Lord’s Supper, as well as in baptism, God gives us really and in fact that which he there sets forth to us; and that consequently with these signs is given the true possession and enjoyment of that which they present to us. And thus all who bring a pure faith, like a vessel, to the sacred table of Christ, receive truly that of which it is a sign; for the body and blood of Jesus Christ give food and drink to the soul, no less than bread and wine nourish the body.27 Calvin’s approach to sacraments was different from Bullinger’s. The worsening political situation induced Calvin to attempt to find some agreement with Bullinger and the Zurich pastors, and the result was the Consensus Tigurinus of 1549, published in 1551. The Consensus was expanded by the Zurich pastors from 20 articles by Calvin submitted at Bern in March 1549. In the original text of the articles relating to sacraments Calvin had used the terms “exhibit” and “instrument.” In the revised articles, the word exhibit was used in reference to Christ, not the sacraments, and the term instruments was replaced by the term organa, “implements,” since Bullinger and the Zurichers would not accept that sacraments could be instruments. Although this document was agreed by many Reformed cities and pastors, it represents Calvin’s lowest common denominator, and Bullinger’s highest common denominator. Both continued to interpret the Consensus, or ignore it, by continuing to teach their accustomed sacramental thought.

132

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 132

12/19/2000 9:58:41 AM

The Sacraments

Lesser-known but no less important Reformed theologians included Peter Martyr Vermigli from Italy; Zacharius Ursinus from the German Reformed Church; Jan Laski (John a Lasco), a Polish reformer who had an impact on Dutch Reformed teaching and worship; and Theodore Beza, Calvin’s successor in Geneva. For Vermigli, sacraments are signs, visible words, and also seals of God’s promise. Three factors are needed for a sacrament, namely, Christ’s institution, God’s Word, and the power of the Holy Spirit. Vermigli used both the term organa and instrumenta. Regarding the Lord’s Supper, he argued that although this sacrament exhibits grace, Christ’s body is not united really or substantially with the elements, but sacramentally united. He seems to have combined symbolic parallelism with symbolic instrumentalism. His terminology combined elements from Zwingli, Bullinger, Bucer, and Calvin, and his key contribution was to describe the presence as “sacramental.” Zacharias Ursinus had studied with Melanchthon, and was regarded as a crypto-Calvinist by the Gnesio-Lutherans, and eventually went to Zurich and studied with Vermigli. The influence of Vermigli on Ursinus is quite clear in his use of the terms “instrument,” “instrumental causes,” and “exhibit.” In 1561 he received a call to Heidelberg, and with Caspar Olevianus, was responsible for the Heidelberg Catechism of 1563. He also wrote an explanation of the catechism. The catechism defined sacraments as “holy visible signs and seals, appointed of God for this end, that by the use thereof he may the more fully declare and seal to us the promise of the Gospel.”28 In baptism the outward washing of water is joined to the promise of being washed by Christ’s blood and the Spirit. In the Supper, “I receive from the minister, and taste with my mouth, the bread and the cup of the Lord, which are given me as certain tokens of the body and blood of Christ.” This is balanced with the next statement that we are united to his sacred body by the Holy Spirit. The Heidelberg Catechism became an important document both for the German Reformed tradition, and for the Dutch Reformed Church. Another influence on the latter in its embryonic years was the Polish Reformer, Jan Laski, who was appointed Superintendent of the “Stranger” [i.e., foreign] Churches which sought refuge in England, including the Dutch congregation at Austin Friars, London. In his Epitome Doctrinae Ecclesiarum Phrisiae Orientalis of 1544, and the Brevis et Dilucida de sacramentis Ecclesiae Christi Tractatio of 1552, Laski stressed that sacraments are seals, rather like seals attached to a document, and they confirm what already is. Although he used the term “exhibit,” he did so in a different manner to Bucer and Calvin; what was important was that the worshipper is lifted to heaven to be spiritually united to Christ. He frequently appealed to Oecolampadius, the Basle reformer, and to Bullinger, and this places his teaching nearer to Zwingli than to Calvin. Calvin’s successor, Beza, taught in his 1556 Confession of Faith that sacraments are instruments

133

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 133

12/19/2000 9:58:41 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

of the Spirit. They are channels or conduits used by the Holy Spirit to join us to Christ and to increase our union with him. He explained: We use the word sign in explaining the sacraments, not to designate something ineffectual, as if a thing were represented to us by a picture or mere memorial or figure, but to declare that the Lord, by his singular goodness, to assist our weakness, uses external and corporal things to represent to our external senses the greatest and most divine things, which he truly communicates to us interiorly through his Spirit: so that he does not give us the signified reality, of which we will speak soon, less truly than he gives us the exterior and corporal signs.29 In his later writings he, like Vermigli, uses the term “sacramentally” to describe how Christ is received in the Lord’s Supper. By 1567 he could call the sacraments “effective causes” due to their nature as analogous signs and as their use as instruments of the Holy Spirit. Thus, from the original “evangelical” movement which Luther had spearheaded in Germany, the Reformation Churches in Northern Europe were divided on sacramental teaching. On the one hand Lutherans taught that sacraments had a promise attached. Baptism cleansed from sin, and their baptismal rites retained the exorcisms found in the ancient rituals; and they claimed a real presence of Christ in, with, and under the bread and wine in the Eucharist. On the other side were the Reformed. They emphasized that sacraments were signs and seals. Baptism was primarily about being in the covenant of the Church rather than removing original sin; but on the Supper there were sharp divisions on the issue of whether the signs and seals were also instruments which the Holy Spirit used for grace, and which exhibited what they signified. However, those differences were papered over (e.g., Consensus Tigurinus) for the sake of unity on other issues. What emerged was a generic Reformed teaching, called by contemporary scholars as “International Calvinism,” which was not a pure school of John Calvin, but an amalgam of perceived common Reformed beliefs.

England and Scotland The Church of England came into being through Royal Prerogative and government legislation. In Henry VIII’s reign, it was an independent Catholic Church, which apart from a drastic pruning of saints’ observance, continued the Latin Catholic services unchanged. Doctrine as articulated in the Bishops Book of 1537 showed some Lutheran influence, which was then curtailed in the more conservative King’s Book of 1543. The latter might be termed as stating a liberal, humanist Catholicism. Only with the death of Henry in 1547 were 134

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 134

12/19/2000 9:58:42 AM

The Sacraments

Archbishop Thomas Cranmer and the other reformist bishops, with the support of the new Council, able to move to reforms. The major part of Cranmer’s agenda was based on a uniform liturgical reform. In 1548 an English devotional communion preparation was published, and it was to be interpolated in the traditional mass at communion time. This work, based on the reforms drawn up by Melanchthon and Bucer for Archbishop Herman von Wied of Cologne, used the Reformation watchword of “spiritual” for the communion, but there was no obvious change in doctrine. In 1549 all Latin rites other than for ordination were replaced by the Book of Common Prayer. This was a very conservative liturgy, retaining many elements from its Latin liturgical antecedents. The baptismal rite reflected some Lutheran sources, and retained an emphasis on remission of original sin and regeneration rather than the Reformed covenant emphasis. The Supper, “commonly called the mass” looked very much like the old Roman Mass, though any hint that the rite was a sacrifice had been weeded out. There was an ambiguous (probably deliberately so) concept of presence in the Eucharistic elements. This was so ambiguous that Bishop Stephen Gardiner, imprisoned in the Tower of London because of his opposition to the Protestant reforms, pronounced the rite “not distant from the Catholic faith.”30 Any ambiguity on the matter of Eucharistic presence was removed in the 1552 Book of Common Prayer; all those phrases that Gardiner had seized on in the 1549 text were removed. The Act of Uniformity which accompanied the book explained that in it the former book was explained and made fully perfect. What, then, was the sacramental teaching? Most of the liturgical text was compiled by Cranmer, and it should be assumed therefore that the doctrine it expressed liturgically was what he held theologically. One of the problems of discerning what this was is that as an Archbishop with administrative duties, he had little time to write. Diarmaid MacCulloch and the more recent work by Gordon Jeanes have tried to ascertain his sacramental beliefs.31 At his trial for heresy he was accused of teaching three contrary doctrines, which would seem to mean the Catholic, then a Lutheran, and finally a Reformed. Cranmer replied that he had held only two, the Catholic and then the evangelical. However, MacCulloch has discerned a move through Lutheran views to one which was more Swiss in flavor. Attempts have been made to label this as Zwinglian or Calvinist, but ultimately his view was his own. Jeanes summarizes thus: He rejects the vocabulary of exhibition, he thinks of the sacraments as signs rather than seals of God’s grace, he chooses the language of three modes of the corporal, spiritual and sacramental presence of Christ.32 Jeanes regarded Cranmer’s views as being that of symbolic parallelism, and thus nearer to Bullinger than to Calvin. In the 42 Articles that Cranmer had been involved in compiling, (adopted in 1563 as the Thirty-Nine Articles of 135

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 135

12/19/2000 9:58:42 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Belief) sacraments were described as “not only badges or tokens of Christian men’s profession, but rather they be certain sure witnesses, and effectual signs of grace, and God’s good will towards us, by the which he doth work invisibly in us, and doth not only quicken, but also strengthen and confirm our Faith in him.” Baptism was explained as not only a sign of our profession and mark of belief that sets aside Christians from others, but is also a sign of regeneration or new birth, “whereby as by an instrument, they that receive Baptism rightly are grafted into the Church.” The Article on the Lord’s Supper rejected transubstantiation, and asserted: The Body of Christ is given, taken, and eaten, in the Supper, only after an heavenly and spiritual manner. And the mean whereby the Body of Christ is received and eaten in the Supper is Faith. The Cranmerian Church was short lived, being swept away in 1553 with the reign of Mary Tudor who restored the Catholic religion. That in turn was swept away on the accession of Elizabeth I in 1558/9. The 1552 Book of Common Prayer, with some minor changes, was reinstated. Whereas in 1552, Cranmer’s words of delivery at the communion made no reference to the elements as being the body and blood of Christ, the Elizabethan book did. Although Edwardian reformers had become martyrs (Cranmer and three other bishops were burnt at the stake for heresy), the Elizabethan divines did not embrace the same doctrinal approach as Cranmer. Rejecting the Catholic and Lutheran teaching on sacraments, they aligned themselves with “International Calvinism,” though like the latter, they too reflected the Bullinger/Calvin difference. Representative teaching across this spectrum is illustrated by the catechism of Alexander Nowell, and the sacramental works of William Perkins (1558–1602) and Richard Hooker (1554–1600). Nowell’s catechism was originally intended to be bound with the ThirtyNine Articles, but failed to gain official status. He rewrote the original text, and it became the most popular catechism in England. It was based on the earlier catechisms of John Poynet and John Calvin. Nowell explained a sacrament thus: It is an outward testifying of God’s goodwill and bountifulness toward is, though Christ by a visible sign representing an invisible and spiritual grace, by which the promises of God touching forgiveness of sins and eternal salvation given through Christ, are, as it were sealed, and the truth of them is more certainly confirmed in our hearts.33 It is an outward sign of an invisible grace, and Nowell quite happily applied the word “grace” to the sacraments. In baptism the grace is the forgiveness 136

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 136

12/19/2000 9:58:42 AM

The Sacraments

of sins, and although a “figure,” it is not an empty one, for the figure has the truth of the things themselves “joined and knit together unto it.” In the Lord’s Supper we receive the “the very divine nourishment of his body and blood.” Nowell clearly tended toward the symbolic instrumentalism of Calvin. Although contemporary Anglicanism promotes Richard Hooker as the archetypal “Anglican” divine, in his day it was his contemporary, William Perkins of Cambridge who was the most widely known and translated English divine. In Perkins’s view, a sacrament is that “whereby Christ and his saving graces are by certain external rites, signified, exhibited, and sealed to a Christian man.” They are visible words and promises, and the element is “an outward seal or instrument to confirm faith.”34 The elements are voluntary or moral instruments, and do not in themselves convey grace. In fact, the grace is not tied to the elements. Here Perkins veers towards “symbolic parallelism.” When discussing baptism, he says that it is no more than a seal annexed to the covenant. It is interesting that Reformed baptismal covenant theology is the backdrop, even though this found no support in the English liturgical rite that Perkins would have used. On the Supper he wrote: For the first, we hold and teach that Christ’s body and blood, are truly present with the bread and wine, being signs in the sacrament: but how? Not in respect of place or coexistence: but by sacramental relation on this manner. When a word is uttered, the sound comes to the ear; and at the same instant, the thing signified comes to the mind; and thus by relation the word and the thing spoken of, are both present together. Even so at the Lord’s table bread and wine must not be considered barely, as substances and creatures, but as outward signs in relation to the body and blood of Christ.35 Richard Hooker taught that sacraments were powerful instruments of God in which God may and does give grace. They have a moral, ecclesiastical, and mystical element. In Book Five of his celebrated Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, he wrote: When sacraments are said to be visible signs of invisible grace, we hereby conceive how grace is indeed the very end for which these heavenly mysteries were instituted, and besides sundry other properties observed in them the matter whereof they consist is such as signifieth, figureth, and representeth their end. But still their efficacy resteth obscure to our understanding, except we search somewhat more distinctly what grace in particular that is whereunto they are referred, and what manner of operation they have towards it. . . . . Sacraments are powerful instruments to God to eternal life.”36 137

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 137

12/19/2000 9:58:42 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

The main purpose of sacraments, for Hooker, was to allow a mystical union with Christ. He rejected transubstantiation, consubstantiation, and the view of the “sacramentarians” (Zwingli), and insisted on a personal presence of Christ. The elements are not transmuted, but allow a transmutation to take place. There is in fact little in Hooker that cannot be found in Calvin, though it is the Calvin of later Geneva, and not the Calvin as represented in the Consensus Tigurinus. By the turn of the seventeenth century a group of English divines, inspired by Bishop Lancelot Andrewes, began to take a greater interest in the pre-Reformation Church, and particularly patristic writings of the first five centuries. They tended to give sacraments a “higher” and more objective interpretation, by blending Calvin’s symbolic instrumentalism with patristic terminology. These churchmen, described by Peter Lake as “AvantGarde Conformists,” stressed the concept of regeneration in baptism, and the Eucharist as a representation of a sacrifice, with a real, but spiritual, presence. In this they found some support in the liturgical rites of the Church of England, which still seemed conservative in comparison to other Protestant rites.37 In Scotland the Reformation took much longer to establish itself, and in some of the islands, never did. The great reformer of Scotland was John Knox who helped draw up the Genevan Form of Prayers for use of the English Church in Geneva in 1556. On his return to Scotland in 1560, this form was adopted as a standard liturgy for the Church of Scotland which ordered itself as a Presbyterian church. The Scots Confession of 1560 and Calvin’s Catechism became important doctrinal standards in the sixteenth-century Scottish Church. The former identified two Gospel sacraments corresponding to circumcision and to Passover. Instituted by Christ for his children, they serve to “seal in their hearts the assurance of his promise, and of that most blessed conjunction, union and society.”38 The confession repudiated the view (Zwingli?) that sacraments are only “naked and bare signs.” In baptism a person is ingrafted into Christ, and sins are covered and remitted. In the Supper, Christ is joined to us, not by transubstantiation, but by the Holy Spirit. The elements are “sacramental signs.” John Craig (1512–1600), a colleague of Knox, published a catechism in which he taught that sacraments are effectual instruments of the Spirit. Faith is needed for them to be effective for the recipients. In the Supper, the elements signify the very substance of Christ’s body, and the spiritual qualities which he gives, though no virtue is enclosed in them.39 Again, these seem to represent Calvin’s teachings, though many ministers seem to have held a view nearer to those of Zurich and Bullinger.40

138

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 138

12/19/2000 9:58:42 AM

The Sacraments

The Radical Reformation Lutheran and Reformed were not the only players in the Reformation arena. On the extreme left were the leaders of the so-called Radical Reformation, and particularly the Anabaptists. Anabaptism emerged in Switzerland, South Germany, and the Netherlands, with differing theologies. They were united in the concept of believers’ baptism and the need for Church discipline which included “the ban.” One of the earliest leaders was Balthasar Hubmaier, who was a Catholic priest. On Easter Sunday in 1525 he rebaptized some three hundred people, and resigned from his parish, and became pastor of an Anabaptist group in Waldshut. Catholics, Lutherans, and Reformed were united in a common rejection and fear of Anabaptism, and it was outlawed and punishable by death. Hubmaier himself was burnt as a heretic in Vienna in March 1528. Hubmaier had initially allied himself with Zwingli, but felt that Zwingli compromised on the theology of baptism. For Hubmaier, it was not the covenant, but personal faith that was crucial. Even more sharply than Zwingli, he drew a distinction between the outward ritual action and the inward baptism. Like the Donatists, Hubmaier believed that there was no salvation outside the true church, and Anabaptist congregations were the only true church. Infant baptism was simply not baptism, and rebaptism was not rebaptism but the real first time baptism. He wrote: In receiving water baptism, the baptizand confesses publicly that he has yielded himself to live henceforth according to the rule of Christ. In the power of this confession he has submitted himself to the sisters, the brethren, and the church, so that they now have the authority to admonish him if he errs, to discipline, to ban, and to readmit him . . . Whence comes this authority if not from the baptismal vow?41 For Hubmaier, sacraments were acts of human response and a means of obedience. The Church is a voluntary community of believers, and the Lord’s Supper was a pledge to live out the grace previously given. Believers eat in faith that the Lord’s body was martyred for us. The Supper is an expression of faith which calls forth love. The South German Anabaptist, Pilgram Marpeck was influenced by Zwingli and Lutheranism. For Marpeck, suffering was a crucial element in the Christian life. He argued that there were two steps in the process of new birth. First came birth through the Word as Law and Gospel, and then birth through Water and the Spirit. Only then came regeneration, which was demonstrated by ethical behavior. In the sacraments the sign becomes united with what it signifies, providing we lead an ethical life and have love. Love is the means

139

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 139

12/19/2000 9:58:42 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

by which we participate in God. When we love each other, bread becomes a co-witness to us that Christ is present.42 An important influence in Dutch Anabaptism was Menno Simons, who was also a Catholic priest. He read both Lutheran and Reformed writers, and for a while remained within the Catholic Church but finally left in 1536 to become an elder in the Anabaptist congregations. Simons had been influenced by the same writing that influenced Zwingli, namely Hoen’s work on the Lord’s Supper. He thus saw the Supper as a symbolic meal of fellowship. It is celebrated because it is mandated in Scripture. The same was true for baptism. It is obedience to a command, a testimony of belief, and a pledge to live in newness of life. Here sacraments are obedient ritual responses, which testify to a fellowship of faith in the Spirit.43 In England the “Radical wing” of the Reformation was represented by the Separatists and Baptists. The former were small sectarian congregations organized at a congregational level under certain leaders such as Robert Brown and Henry Barrow. They rejected both the national Church of England, but also the Reformed Churches and their polity. Brown, and his co-pastor, Robert Harrison treated baptism and the Lords Supper in the context of covenant and a covenanted people. Baptism was described as a sacrament or mark of the outward church, sealing to us by the washing of our bodies in water, and the Word preached, our suffering with Christ, and dying to sin, and rising to righteousness; the Lord’s Supper is a sacrament of mark of the church sealing to us that we grow into the body of Christ. The Supper was also defined more briefly as “a seal of our partaking and growing together in one body, whereof Christ is the head in one Christian communion.”44 The English Baptists were not directly influenced by the Continental Anabaptist movements, but seem to have been separatist covenanting congregations who advocated believers’ baptism. The Baptist documents of faith tended to regard sacraments as signs and symbols only. The General Baptist, John Smyth, a former Church of England priest, taught in A Short Confession of Faith, 1609: (13) That the church of Christ has power delegated to themselves of announcing the word, administering the sacraments, appointing ministers, disclaiming them, and also excommunicating; but the last appeal is to the brethren of body of the church. (14) That baptism is the external sign of the remission of sins, of dying and of being made alive, and therefore does not belong to infants. (15) That the Lord’s Supper is the external sign of the communion of Christ, and of the faithful amongst themselves by faith and love.45 Beyond this, Smyth had nothing further to say.46

140

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 140

12/19/2000 9:58:42 AM

The Sacraments

Conclusion The Reformation teachings on sacraments constitute a further narrowing of the concept of “mysterion” which was a hallmark of Western Scholastic theology. Lombard, endorsed by Trent, gave tight, scholastic definitions of a sacrament, and limited the number to seven. Wishing to free themselves from the Scholastic definitions and seeking some scriptural warrant, the Reformers reduced the sacraments to two, though for Luther Penance could count as one, and the Reformed and radical congregations replaced it with “discipline” and the “ban.” Within the Protestant traditions, there was a sharp division between the Lutherans on one hand, and the Reformed on the other. Lutherans still stressed forgiveness of sin in baptism, and most Lutheran rites of baptism retained exorcisms. In contrast, the Reformed argued for infant baptism on the basis of the concept of covenant. Whereas Luther and Lutherans insisted that although transubstantiation was erroneous, the words at the Eucharist meant that Christ was in, with, and under the elements. The Reformed, with a different Christological approach which rejected ubiquity, were divided themselves on the degree of presence or absence in the Supper. The minimalist views were represented by Zwingli and Bullinger, whereas Bucer, Calvin, and Beza argued for a real sacramental presence and union with Christ by virtue of the Holy Spirit. The Radical Reformation took the Zurich approach to its maximum logical conclusion, so that sacraments become mere signs.

Bibliography Davis, Thomas J. This is My Body. The Presence of Christ in Reformation Thought. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 2008. Elwood, Christopher. The Body Broken. The Calvinist Doctrine of the Eucharist and the Symbolization of Power in Sixteenth-Century France. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999. Fisher, J. C. D. Christian Initiation. The Reformation Period. London: SPCK, 1970. Heron, Alasdair. Table and Tradition. Towards an Ecumenical Understanding of the Eucharist. Edinburgh: The Handsel Press, 1983. Macy, Gary. The Theologies of the Eucharist in the Early Scholastic Period. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984. Rorem, Paul. Calvin and Bullinger on the Lord’s Supper, Alcuin/GROW Liturgical Study 12. Bramcote: Grove Books, 1989. Sasse, Hermann. This is My Body. Luther’s Contention for the Real Presence in the Sacrament of the Altar. Adelaide: Lutheran Publishing House, 1977. Spierling, Karen E. Infant Baptism in Reformation Geneva. The Shaping of a Community, 1536–1564. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005. Spinks, Bryan D. Reformation and Modern Rituals and Theologies of Baptism. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006.

141

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 141

12/19/2000 9:58:42 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology Teigen, Bjarne Wollan. The Lord’s Supper in the Theology of Martin Chemnitz. Brewster: Trinity Lutheran Press, 1986. Thompson, Bard. Liturgies of the Western Church. Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress, 1980. Wandel, Lee Palmer. The Eucharist in the Reformation. Incarnation and Liturgy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006.

142

9780567033604_Ch08_Final_txt_print.indd 142

12/19/2000 9:58:42 AM

9

The Church and Ministry1 Paul Avis

The late medieval period witnessed an extended crisis of legitimation for the Western Church as an institution. Repeated demands for reform “in head and members” (that is to say at every level of the Church, from the pope downward) had been consistently frustrated by the Church hierarchy. The Conciliar Movement had succeeded in reuniting the Papacy after the period of fragmentation that began in 1378 when the Papacy split into two, then three popes. But the Councils of the first half of the fifteenth century had not done much to reform the Church and, because they pushed their antipapal agenda too far, had resulted, ironically, in a strengthened, more centralized Papacy. Although the great conciliar thinkers of the fifteenth century—Pierre d’Ailly, Jean Gerson, Nicholas of Cusa—wanted to reform the Papacy and put their faith in General Councils, they remained papalists and were not on the same theological wavelength as the sixteenth-century Reformers. They would have had little sympathy with the sola scriptura slogan of the Reformation. Nevertheless, the Conciliarists contributed to the momentum of reform, invoked the preexisting notion of the common good of the Church and appealed to natural law as an authority superior to Canon Law (positive law) in order to clear the way, juridically speaking, for structural reform of Church authority. In very similar ways, and not least in their repeated appeal to a General Council, the Reformers were the heirs of the Conciliarists. It was the fact that the great Council of Constance (1414–18) had burned the proto-reformer Jan Hus on false charges that led Luther to reject the doctrine of the infallibility of General Councils. The failure of the Conciliar Movement to reform the Church was a contributory factor in the wave of resentment against Rome that led to the upsurge of reforming zeal in the early sixteenth century.2 Although devotion was vibrant in Europe and there were abundant signs of spiritual vitality, many believed that the hierarchy and the institution were riddled with superstition, corruption, and abuses. Many Christian folk were troubled because, in the Church as they knew it, they found it difficult to see the body and bride of Christ. As Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury under Henry VIII and Edward VI, put it: “If we shall allow them for the true Church of God, that appear to be the visible and outward Church, consisting 143

9780567033604_Ch09_Final_txt_print.indd 143

12/19/2000 9:59:57 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

of the ordinary succession of bishops, then shall we make Christ, which is an innocent lamb without spot, and in whom is found no guile, to be the head of ungodly and disobedient members.”3 There had to be more to the Church of Christ than met the eye. But the Reformers, like the Roman Catholics, believed the doctrine of the indefectibility of the Church: because Christ had promised that the gates of death would not prevail against it (Mt. 16.18), the Church could not ultimately fail. The true Church was often hidden from outward view, but it could be discerned by certain outward marks, the notae ecclesiae: principally the pure preaching of the Word and the right administration of the Sacraments, in fidelity to Scripture. These were patently visible events that could be seen and heard. Christians were built up in their faith by tangible means of grace. But was the Church itself primarily and essentially invisible? If so, what was the relation between the essential invisible Church and the visible, manifest Church, which ministered the ordinances of the Gospel? Was the Reformed Church the same Church as the one that had preceded it in Protestant lands? Was it a new Church or did it go right back to the beginnings of Christianity? Did visible historical continuity matter? If there was only one Church, which was from the beginning, and the reformed Christians were in it, where did that leave the unreformed Church, the Church that resisted the Protestant reform (though it soon began to reform itself in its own way)—how should the Roman Catholic Church be assessed? The Reformers developed their answers to these questions in dialogue with the Scriptures and the early Fathers of the Church. Their appeal was ad fontes: back to the fountainhead, the supposed golden age of the “primitive” Church, when it was pure and uncorrupted by papal abuses. But the answers that the Reformers found were shaped by the questions that they asked, and they were questions posed by the predicament of the late medieval Church. The Reformers cannot be understood except in the medieval context: to understand the Reformers we cannot begin with them.4 Furthermore, Reformation ecclesiology was shaped in controversy and is polemical virtually throughout. The controversy was conducted with the Reformers’ Roman Catholic adversaries and with Reformers of other traditions, Lutheran versus Reformed, with the English Reformers adapting the work of the continental Reformers to their own situation and traditions, until Richard Hooker strikes out on a fresh line (though Hooker is no less polemical, only more subtly and in effect lethally so). So the ecclesiology of the Reformers needs to be approached with our eyes open to the ideological factors that shaped and perhaps distorted it—factors to do with the legitimation of authority, the human tendency to over-react, and the need to secure the survival of the threatened reformed communities, all of which were driving their theology and their actions. 144

9780567033604_Ch09_Final_txt_print.indd 144

12/19/2000 9:59:57 AM

The Church and Ministry

Visible and Invisible The Reformers had a profound sense of the mystery of the Church. Its deepest meaning is “hidden with Christ in God” (Colossians 3.2) and faith is needed to apprehend it. The mystical, transcendent reality of the Church needs to be acknowledged in any ecclesiology. The conceptuality that the Reformers employed to articulate the mystery of the Church was the distinction between the Church visible and the Church invisible. The dialectic between the two takes us to the heart of Reformation ecclesiology. Some caricatures of the Reformation suggest that the leading idea of Reformed ecclesiology was that the Church of Christ is invisible. The Reformers do indeed use that language, but it needs to be interpreted with care. The Reformers operated with a duality that set the visible and external aspects of the Church in dialectical relationship to the invisible, internal aspects; the empirical Church versus the Church of faith; appearance versus essence. Within this framework, there was a significant development over time in the direction of the visibility of the Church. Zwingli, the younger Luther and the younger Calvin saw the invisible Church as the true, real, essential Church. But the more they penetrated into the nature of the Church in their theological research and practical ministry, the more they moved away from duality and came to prioritize the visible Church.5 There were significant differences between the Reformers in this area of their theology. One of Luther’s dualities was that between internal and external: he likened the two aspects of the Church to soul and body. God uses external means—they are indispensable. In Luther the duality is not a dualism of the spiritual and the material: “spiritual” does not equal “invisible,” but refers to the sphere where the Holy Spirit is at work. However, the internal forum has priority, for the Church is “a congregation of hearts.” Luther tends to make ecclesiology an “inward” matter, though he insists that outward means of grace are absolutely essential. It is not that the true Church is intrinsically invisible, but that it is obscured by the dimness of our faith, as a result of suffering and sin. The external dimension is not of the essence of the Church, as it is for the Roman Catholic Church. Luther often spoke of the Church, or the true Church, as “hidden”: abscondita est ecclesia, latent sancti (“the Church is hidden, the saints concealed”: WA 18: 652). This is not the same as postulating an invisible Church. What is hidden is not intrinsically invisible at all, or it would not need to be hidden. Luther said that the Church is “a high deep hidden thing, which one may neither perceive nor see, but must grasp only by faith through baptism, the sacrament [of the altar] and word” (WA 2: 752; cf. 51: 507). Sixteenth-century Protestants were looking for the true Church, the place where they could be saved: you can’t look for what is invisible. The visible marks of the Church directed their steps.

145

9780567033604_Ch09_Final_txt_print.indd 145

12/19/2000 9:59:58 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Luther and Melanchthon had to counter the accusation from their Roman Catholic opponents that they were postulating a “Platonic” Church—one that, like Plato’s Republic, was a utopian dream (the word “utopia” was coined by Sir Thomas More in his work of that title in 1516) and did not actually exist. The accusation of Platonizing the Church was firmly refuted: the Church really existed in space and time, but was not identical with the hierarchical power structure of the Roman Catholic Church (BC, p. 171). However, Luther insisted that particular places were not important to the Church: neither Rome nor Wittenberg mattered. The Church was wherever Christ made himself present through Word and Sacrament to faithful Christians. The Church could not exist without being located—sine loco et corpore non est ecclesia: “without place and body there is no Church” (WA 7: 719f.)—but the particular location was neither here not there (as we might say); it was a matter of Christian freedom. As the Lutheran reform progressed, careful attention had to be given to the institutions of the Church: the fabric of society was made up of social, legal, and educational structures and these should be permeated by reformed Christian principles. The Reformers’ goal was nothing less than the re-Christianization of European civilization, a reformed Christendom.6 Zwingli made the distinction between visible and invisible Church one of the systematic themes of his ecclesiology, attempting to ground it in the biblical usage of the term “church” (ekklesia). But Zwingli was not deeply interested in the Church beyond the local and so did not have to face the broader theological questions that this duality raises. The Church was composed of all believers (he did not always say: all the baptized) throughout the world. It was a reality created by the Holy Spirit and was not primarily an institution. Structures were not part of the essence of the Church. The universal Church would not have an empirical existence until the Last Day, when God would gather it together. In the later work An Exposition of the Faith, Zwingli defines his terms: “We also believe that there is one, holy, catholic, that is, universal church, and that this church is either visible or invisible.” To the invisible Church belong “all who believe the whole world over. It is not called invisible because believers are invisible, but because it is concealed from the eyes of men who they are: for believers are known (perspecti) only to God and to themselves.” The visible Church, on the other hand, does not consist of the pope and the bishops, but of all who have the gift of inward faith.7 John Calvin was a serious ecclesiologist; he devoted a large proportion of the Institutes of the Christian Religion to the doctrine of the Church. Calvin speaks sparingly of the invisible Church. He was absorbed from day to day with administering the Reformed churches in Geneva and beyond. The later Calvin was engaged in what we might call concrete ecclesiology—he was preoccupied with the organization, order and ministerial offices of the Church—and therefore gave the visible dimension considerable prominence. 146

9780567033604_Ch09_Final_txt_print.indd 146

12/19/2000 9:59:58 AM

The Church and Ministry

In the first edition of the Institutes (1536) Calvin identified the Catholic Church with the mystical body of Christ. But only three years later, in the second edition (1539), he first introduced the theme of mater ecclesia: it is the visible Church, with all her means of grace, who is the Mother Church. From then on—without retracting anything about the secret election and predestination by God of those who are destined to be saved through the ministry of the Church—he echoes Tertullian: you cannot have God for your Father unless you have the Church for your Mother. The invisible Church cannot nurture, guide, and teach us. It is as though the invisible Church becomes a hypothesis that is not relevant. We depend on the visible Church as a child depends on its mother. The visible Church is so important for our salvation that it does not need to be perfect in order to command our allegiance: unity is an imperative of the Gospel and we should put up with many imperfections to maintain unity, provided that the Word and the Sacraments remain in the Church.8 Not all those in the Calvinist tradition shared the mature Calvin’s emphasis on the visible Church. For the Westminster Confession in mid-seventeenth century Britain, for example, the Catholic Church clearly comprises the elect and is essentially invisible, though it becomes visible to varying degrees. The issue that we are left with at this point is whether the language of visible and invisible refers in the Reformers and in subsequent Protestant theology to two Churches or to the one Church under two aspects. Though the Reformers’ words sometimes seem to imply that there are two distinct Churches, one visible and the other invisible, that interpretation is ecclesiologically completely unacceptable: it has the effect of dividing the Body of Christ and undermining the article of the Creed concerning the unity of the Church. It makes better theological sense to say that the visible and the invisible are two related dimensions or aspects of the one Church—though even that way of putting it may still be misleading. There is one Church of Christ, which is both human and divine, like Jesus Christ himself. What we see of it at any one point in history is highly imperfect (because of human sin, error, and frailty) and radically incomplete (because it does not include the faithful departed or those Christians yet to be born). This combination of imperfection and incompleteness leads us to postulate that there is much concerning the Church that is known only to faith and resides in the gracious purposes of God, and so we are able to confess the Church precisely as an article of faith and to rejoice in the communion of the saints. Locher suggests that the “Church in duality” approach that is typical of the Reformers has an inherent tendency toward idealizing the Church, drawing our attention away from the Church here and now and its tasks of mission. Locher believes that this deflection—which could be described rather provocatively as a deflection from the real Church to a fantasy Church—is 147

9780567033604_Ch09_Final_txt_print.indd 147

12/19/2000 9:59:58 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

particularly unhelpful in a world marked by division and lack of holiness: it is in the real, visible Church that the Gospel of reconciliation and sanctification must be evident. This, he alleges, is the scandalon (stumbling block) of Protestant ecclesiology.9 However, it is worth bearing in mind that it is those traditions that most emphasize the visibility of the Church that also most idealize it. The Eastern Orthodox and high Roman Catholic ecclesiologies idealize the Church to the extent that the most grandiose claims are made for her authority, unity, purity, and so on—and for corresponding unquestioning obedience on the part of the faithful—while grave scandals of schism or corruption or sexual abuse are rampant. Idealization is the besetting sin of all ecclesiology (especially, we might say, of ecumenical dialogue texts!), and the theology of the Church needs to be brought down to earth—to be realistic as well as visionary.10 It is as a Reformed theologian that Locher advocates the view that, while for the Reformers, in the earliest phase of the Reformation, the ecclesiological center of gravity lay in the invisible Church, the “entire being” of the Church is actually visible. The spiritual community is essentially visible. It is visible without remainder. The members are those who practice as Christians within the Church, taken at face value. The faithful who unite around the font, under the pulpit and at the communion table “are the Church, fully and truly.”11 Locher’s thesis points toward a catholic and sacramental understanding of the Church of Christ as a visible society, extending through history and across the world. The body of Christ cannot be invisible: a body is physical and has a history. This incarnational, sacramental understanding of the Church need not be alien to the theology that stems from the Reformation. It was a Lutheran theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who said, “Christ exists as the Church” and a Reformed theologian, Karl Barth, who affirmed that the Church is Christ’s “earthly historical form of existence.”12 The problem that led the Reformers to postulate a dimension to the Church that was not manifest, but needed to be discerned by faith, was the imperfection of the Church as we experience it, and that problem remains. But we may consider that “invisible” is not a helpful word and that the dualism of some ways of expressing the dialectic is unhelpful. The first English Reformers worked along similar lines to the Continental Reformers, but Richard Hooker (d. 1600) abandoned that whole problematic and employed instead a distinction between the visible and the mystical dimensions of the Church. He fights shy of the word “invisible.” For Hooker the Church is simultaneously both a visible society, an institution of a political kind, and a mystical body that surpasses our perception. He too takes the outward profession of the Christian life within the Church—participation in worship and the sacraments—at face value. Hooker did not deny election, but that was a matter for God alone and not one into which we should pry. It is precisely the interaction of these two 148

9780567033604_Ch09_Final_txt_print.indd 148

12/19/2000 9:59:58 AM

The Church and Ministry

dimensions of the Church, the visible and the mystical, that gives ecclesiology its challenge.13

The Marks of the Church The very notion of the reform of a corrupt Church, which made the Reformation what it was, created a crucial dilemma: if the true Church is so often hidden from view and yet we need its ministry of Word and Sacrament in order to be saved, how do we know where to find it? Luther in particular returns frequently to the question of the identity of the true Church, in order that we may embrace it, and the identity of the false Church, in order that we may shun it. In Luther we have on the one hand the powerful, persecuting and triumphalist false Church and on the other the weak, downtrodden and despised true Church, which is crucified with its Master and even denied the name of Church altogether. Luther sees this theme running through Scripture, from Cain and Abel onward. Every Christian needs to be able, for the sake of their salvation, to discern the true Church, but Christians have a sort of homing instinct that leads them to the true fold. The Reformers approach the theology of the Church Christologically. The person and work of Christ are very important for understanding the Church. To reform and purify the Church is to reveal Christ in his saving power and love. The central insight of Reformation ecclesiology is that the Church is about Christ and if it is about Christ it is about his Gospel. As Luther said in the Ninety-five Theses (1517), “The true treasure of the Church is the holy gospel.” Everything is contained in the Gospel. “Christ has left nothing to the world except the gospel” (LW 31: 31, 210, 230). Everything else is dispensable. Where the Gospel is made known through Word and Sacrament Christ is present and there is the Church. The Reformers did not distance Christ from the faithful through a series of human intermediaries, whether clergy, bishops, and popes on earth, or saints in heaven. They stress the approachability of God the Father and of Jesus Christ and have an intimate sense of the fellowship of Christians with God.14 The principal means by which God saves us—the channels through which God works for our salvation—are also the marks of the true Church (notae ecclesiae). Or, to put it the other way round: the signs by which we can tell where the true Church is to be found are precisely the key means of grace that give the Church its raison d’être. The logic of this position is that the notae are not only the outward marks of the Church but are inwardly constitutive of it: they make the Church the Church. But what are these marks and were the Reformers agreed about them? For Luther (and here he was followed by the consensus of Reformation theology) these marks are only two: the ministry of the Word and the Sacraments 149

9780567033604_Ch09_Final_txt_print.indd 149

12/19/2000 9:59:58 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

instituted by Christ (baptism and the Eucharist). Luther himself sometimes added the sacrament of penance, which he saw as a kind of re-receiving of the Gospel. These ordinances of the Gospel comprise the work of God in his Church and through them God is at work for our salvation. As Luther says: “Behind these stands our Lord God, and they are the faces of God through which he speaks with us and works in every person individually. He baptizes me, he absolves me, and gives me his body and blood through the tongue and the hand of the minister . . . And this is the presence or form and epiphany of God in these means” (LW 8: 145). Sometimes Luther can be quite expansive about the marks of the true Church. In 1539, in his major treatise On the Councils and the Church, he listed seven marks, but he was prepared to reduce them to the Word of God (the Gospel) because God’s Word and God’s people can never be separated (LW 41: 148ff.). The Sacraments are virtually contained in the Word and are nothing without it. As he says on another occasion, even a small child, who hears the voice of the Good Shepherd, knows where the Church is to be found (BC, 315: Smalkald Articles, 1537). Article VII of the Lutheran Augsburg Confession (Confessio Augustana) is the classical statement of the marks of the Church in Reformation theology and was echoed elsewhere, including in Article XIX of the Thirty-Nine Articles of the Church of England. The Augsburg Confession says: “The Church is the assembly of saints in which the gospel is taught purely and the sacraments are administered rightly.” The article goes on to say: “For the true unity of the Church it is enough to agree concerning the teaching of the gospel and the administration of the sacraments. It is not necessary that human traditions or rites and ceremonies, instituted by men, should be alike everywhere” (BC, 32, Latin text). Here we see the Lutheran Reformers homing in on the biblical essentials of the Church, cutting out medieval accretions, creating space for “particular” (national or regional) Churches to forge their own identity, and warding off the Roman Catholic predilection for uniformity. Historical continuity was important for the Reformers. Reformation apologetics claimed that the Reformed Churches had simply returned to Scripture and the primitive Church. But that was a special kind of continuity: it did not include an unbroken historical continuum right through the medieval Church. The Reformers “leapfrogged” over the pre-Reformation period, the age of what they regarded as doctrinal error, moral laxity, and pastoral abuses, presided over by the Papacy. But it was essential to the Reformers’ self-understanding that they should be “plugged into” the early Church. The marks of the Church—Word and Sacrament—identify the Church of today with the primitive, pure Church of the apostles and early Fathers. The Reformers claim: We teach their doctrine and administer their sacraments (that is to say, the sacraments in the way that they understood them, without the sacrifice of the mass, 150

9780567033604_Ch09_Final_txt_print.indd 150

12/19/2000 9:59:58 AM

The Church and Ministry

transubstantiation, etc.). It is the Eucharist that particularly embodies the continuity of the Church through history: Luther says, “We eat and drink with the whole of ancient Christendom from one table . . . for we are one Church with the ancient Church in one sacrament” (LW 41: 194ff. [1541]). Luther’s radical simplicity about the marks of the true Church takes us to the heart of Reformation ecclesiology. His ecclesiology is characterized by a sort of mystical insight, the insight of an idealist. But it was too idealistic for the general populace and Luther backed off when he had the opportunity to put his radical ecclesiology into practice. He admitted that the people had not risen to the challenge of his message. Luther’s theology was not designed to build the structures that would be needed for the Church in the future. Luther was not interested in the institutional aspect of the Church, in its structures, processes, and administration. His lieutenant and successor, Philip Melanchthon, affirmed that the essential mark of the Church was the Gospel, but Melanchthon began to surround it with supporting structures, particularly a stress on Church order and discipline. In this he is fairly typical of second-generation Reformers, such as Martin Bucer, John Knox, and some English Reformers, who insisted that discipline—the maintenance of ecclesial boundaries by the use of excommunication—is essential to the Church and is therefore one of its marks.15 Brachlow comments that “the elevation of discipline to the formal technical status of a church ‘mark’ by most later Calvinists, especially after 1560, is a curious addition to the original protestant scheme. Second- and third-generation evangelicals never offered an explanation for this addition, nor, for that matter, did they ever acknowledge that they had even made one.”16 We might expect Calvin to be sympathetic to this strict approach, but in fact he maintains the radical emphasis of Luther himself on the two marks of the Church, Word and Sacrament, and resists the idea that discipline should be third formal mark. Of course, Calvin believes in a disciplined Church, but a Church can still exist where this is absent. The marks of the Church are to show where salvation through the means of grace is to be had: they are not trophies of a perfect Church. Calvin’s realism at this point may have stemmed from his concern for unity. Once the unity of Christendom had been fractured by the Reformation it was all too easy for reformed Christians to continue to fragment. Where the Reformers had found the Roman Catholic Church deficient, their more ardent disciples would soon find fault with the reformed Churches themselves. Calvin deplores hasty separation from an imperfect Church: where Word and Sacrament remain, we should remain within the Church.17 It was the Anabaptists who most emphasized the mark of discipline, in the form of excommunication.18 The “ban” was a power at the disposal of the local gathered Church to exclude from its fellowship those who had fallen short. Some Anabaptists, such as Andreas Karlstadt, played down the “external” means of grace. It was the inward word in the heart or spirit that mattered; the 151

9780567033604_Ch09_Final_txt_print.indd 151

12/19/2000 9:59:58 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Holy Spirit was not dependent on external means. For some radicals the true Church had not existed on earth for more than a thousand years: it had been taken up to heaven to avoid contamination by the Emperor Constantine’s establishment of Christianity as the religion of the Roman state. Small communities of the perfect were the sole instantiation of the true Church, but they were constantly in danger of becoming impure. As a result, the third mark of the Church came to eclipse the other two in some radical groups. Among the small English Separatist groups toward the end of the sixteenth century, those who rejected the “established” Church of England, “the ban” dominated the life of the Church. There was a New Testament blueprint for the ordering of the Church. Church structure was not a thing indifferent (adiaphoron), as it was for some Lutherans and some Anglicans. Among the Separatists the concept of adiaphora was diminished to vanishing point. For some Separatists it was necessary to salvation to adhere to the biblical pattern. It was the observance of discipline, not the Word or the Sacraments on their own, that gave believers the assurance of salvation.19 How did the Reformers assess the Roman Catholic Church in the light of the notae ecclesiae? On the one hand, they recognized that the Roman Church retained all the essentials of the Church: especially the Word and the Sacraments, though these are both distorted and obscured. Luther acknowledged that the reformed communities derived the essentials of the Church from the medieval Church. At the lowest level, the Reformers recognized that there are individual Christians in the Roman Catholic communion—and even communities of Christians—there are “churches” among them. Calvin concedes that traces or vestiges (vestigia) of the Church remain. On the other hand, for the Reformers’ Rome was not a true Church, wherein salvation could be received with any assurance, and the Papacy was the seat of Antichrist. The Reformers’ language is unclear, inconsistent, and ambiguous. The theology of the notae ecclesiae could not readily account for the state of the unreformed Roman Church. On the other hand, in England, Richard Hooker was moved by the fate of thousands of “our fathers” who “lived and died” in popish ignorance and superstition (i.e. they did not renounce Romish errors on their deathbeds): it was impossible to accept that they were all lost. In his great sermon Of Justification Hooker argues that, although Rome distorts the truth of salvation, it does not destroy it. His contemporary, Richard Field, sees the Council of Trent as the watershed: the Reformation was formally rejected and error was codified; Rome had moved into darkness.20

The Ministry of the Church The Reformers’ understanding of the ministry of the Church rests on certain theological axioms.21 First, Christ has ordered his Church in such a way that 152

9780567033604_Ch09_Final_txt_print.indd 152

12/19/2000 9:59:58 AM

The Church and Ministry

the means of grace, chiefly Word and Sacrament, can be provided in a consistent and dependable manner for Christian people in order to lead them to salvation. The worship and ministry of the Church are to be conducted in an orderly and regular way. No one can appoint themselves a minister; they must be called by the Church and given authority (though not ordained in any “sacramental” way). Here the Reformers, especially Luther (e.g. in The Babylonian Captivity of the Church), invoked the ancient canonical principle, which had also been deployed in the Conciliar Movement, that what affects all must be approved by all. The minister becomes the representative of the congregation. Second, while the primary means of grace are the ministry of the Word and of the Sacraments, there is also a need for pastoral care and oversight and for spiritual counsel. The people are to obey their pastors. The focus on Word and Sacrament in Reformation theology is not meant to imply that the ordained ministry, with its responsibility for pastoral oversight, is a secondary factor in the life of the Church. Article V of the Augsburg Confession insists that, in order that we may obtain justifying faith, the ministry of Word and Sacrament was instituted by God (BC, p. 31, German text). While Luther insists that it is the ministry of all Christians that has been divinely instituted, he is equally insistent that the public ministry of Word and Sacrament is for those only who have been chosen. Third, the two spheres of authority, Church and State, the spiritual and the temporal or civil (not “secular”—that would be an anachronism) are equally ordained by God as instruments whereby God governs the world. They should, therefore, cooperate with each other, within the single Christian commonwealth, to promote human well-being. The way that this principle was worked out differed according to the context: Lutherans and Anglicans being willing to grant a larger role to the temporal power, seen as a Christian ruler with a special responsibility (“the godly prince”), than the Reformed. Luther appealed to the nobility to assume the role of “emergency bishop” (Notbischof) in undertaking a visitation of the parishes.22 Fourth, the received “orders” of the Church need to be reformed and simplified so that they reflect the priorities of the Gospel. The “minor orders” were not continued within the reformed Churches. On the structure of the ordained ministry there is some divergence among the Reformers. In the first phase of the reform there was an assumption that bishops would continue, provided that they taught the Gospel and shepherded their flocks. The Augsburg Confession assumes the ministry of bishops, though they soon disappeared from Lutheran Germany. Although Calvin himself was fairly relaxed about episcopacy (while remaining implacable about the Papacy), the Reformed Churches were (and are) egalitarian and anti-hierarchical; they had no place for bishops. In England the territorial ministry of bishops in the 153

9780567033604_Ch09_Final_txt_print.indd 153

12/19/2000 9:59:58 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

dioceses continued and new dioceses were created, but bishops were seen not only as pastors but also as agents of the king’s rule and they had a role at court and in Parliament. In England and in Sweden the historic continuity of bishops was maintained, though no particular theology of episcopacy attached to this. We should remember that the dominant school of medieval thought held that priests and bishops were one order and that a bishop was a priest with wider pastoral responsibilities. The mystique that attaches to bishops is a modern phenomenon. Both Luther and Calvin interpreted The Acts of the Apostles chapter 6 as indicating that deacons should carry out the Church’s work of caring for the poor and the sick. Calvin drew from the New Testament a fourfold scheme of ministry: pastors and doctors, elders and deacons, but he did not insist that this should be implemented everywhere. Calvin’s successor in Geneva, Theodore Beza, articulated a systematic Presbyterian polity and this was followed in Scotland by Andrew Melville. An attempt to convert the Church of England to Presbyterianism, by Thomas Cartwright and Walter Travers, for example, was refuted theologically by Richard Hooker in Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity and was firmly repressed by authority. Finally, there could be no rigid distinction between ordained and lay people. The separation between the clergy and the laity was the first of the three walls of separation that Luther demolished in his Appeal to the Christian Nobility of the German Nation (1520). For Luther all Christians are priests because all can minister to each other in the name of Christ, including giving assurance of forgiveness of sins or releasing an individual from an oppressive vow. What sets ministers apart is not a sacramental rite of ordination, but the call of the Church. There is a general or common priesthood of all the baptized. The biblical doctrine of the royal priesthood of the baptized now belongs to the ecumenical consensus and is not controversial, but Luther drew radical consequences from it and some of his erstwhile colleagues, such as Karlstadt, went further in a direction that was destructive of good order in the Church. It is a Protestant myth that the “priesthood of all believers” was one of the Reformation doctrines on which Martin Luther took his historic stand. However, Luther did not use either the German or the Latin exact equivalent of the expression “the priesthood of all believers” and it does not occur in the Lutheran confessional documents—it is a later slogan. For his part, Calvin was not keen that ordinary Christians should start ministering to each other and he deplored the common practice of midwives baptizing sickly infants. For Calvin, the priestly character of the Church meant that Christians had no need of any human intermediary in drawing near to God in faith, prayer, and worship.23 Karlstadt took Luther’s doctrine to an extreme, renouncing

154

9780567033604_Ch09_Final_txt_print.indd 154

12/19/2000 9:59:58 AM

The Church and Ministry

his ordination and speaking of himself as a layman; lay people could do everything that a priest could do, including celebrating the Lord’s Supper. The magisterial Reformers taught that the personal unworthiness of the minister does not detract from the effect of the Sacrament, because Christ himself is the true minister of the means of grace, and that we should not withdraw from the public ministry of those we know to be falling short of the required standard.24 It was because the radicals did not accept this principle that they placed so much emphasis on discipline and expulsion. The magisterial Reformers gave enormous authority to the clergy or pastors, but they took away the theological basis for this in the catholic sacramental understanding of ordination. Why should we not separate from unworthy ministers? Is it enough to say that they have been chosen by the congregation, or does this principle require a more “sacramental” basis? For the Reformers the authority of the minister rested primarily on the power of the Word of God and on the learning and eloquence with which it was expounded. Was that enough to support the order of the Church and its mission in the world? At the heart of the Reformers’ ecclesiology was a dynamic sense of Word and Sacrament going forth in the power of God. At the end of this chapter we need to ask what implications that concept had for the mission of the Church.25 Here we are disappointed to find a huge blind spot in the thinking of the magisterial Reformers. They do not draw the conclusion that the message of the Gospel, that brings the Church into being, should be taken to heathen lands where no Church was. While the commitment and energy of the Roman Catholic Church to missions at that time is impressive, and while the radical Protestant reformers also had a vision of mission, the magisterial Reformers are silent on this score. Luther and Melanchthon supported the project to make a Latin translation of the Koran, but they did not see this as a preliminary step toward converting Muslims. The borders of Europe were being pushed back by Turkish invasion. Luther bracketed the Turk and the pope together as twin manifestations of Antichrist (sometimes adding the “fanatics”, that is the Anabaptists, and the Jews). It is not altogether surprising that he did not think in terms of the conversion of Antichrist. As far as the Jews are concerned, in his earlier writings on the Jews, Luther expected their conversion and advocated a gentle, persuasive method to bring this about. However, in his later years Luther became exasperated by the failure of the Jews within the Reformation lands to accept the Gospel and his bitter, paranoid diatribes against them sullied his reputation at the time and for posterity. The great Reformers, whose theological insights continue to challenge our reflection on the nature and purpose of the Church, would have been the first to admit that they had feet of clay.

155

9780567033604_Ch09_Final_txt_print.indd 155

12/19/2000 9:59:58 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Selected Further Reading Avis, Paul. The Church in the Theology of the Reformers. London: Marshall, Morgan and Scott, 1981; reprinted Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2002. —. Beyond the Reformation? Authority, Primacy and Unity in the Conciliar Tradition. London and New York: T&T Clark, 2006. Haight, S. J. Roger, Christian Community in History [Comparative Ecclesiology, vol. 2]. New York and London: Continuum, 2005, Part 1. Locher, Gottfried Wilhelm. Sign of the Advent: A Study in Protestant Ecclesiology. Fribourg: Academic Press, 2004.

156

9780567033604_Ch09_Final_txt_print.indd 156

12/19/2000 9:59:58 AM

10

Preaching and Worship Anne T. Thayer

Across Europe in the sixteenth century, many believed that a deeper and more faithful Christianity was needed. Worship and preaching were integral parts of the sixteenth-century reformers’ overarching agenda of reform to Christianize Europe.1 Public worship, in which the community gathered to honor and praise God, to benefit from the means of grace, and to be instructed and nurtured in the faith, needed to change. Catholic reformers wanted the Church to live up to its ideals, streamlining, purifying, and deepening existing worship with a focus on Christ’s real presence in the Eucharist. Protestants saw the mass as an offense against God, an unintelligible sensory ritual without faithful engagement of the Bible, offered to God rather than received from God. It needed to be replaced by worship practices compatible with their doctrines of sola gratia, sola fide, and sola scriptura. The Bible was understood to offer divine guidance on theology, worship, and Christian life, yet different traditions drew different conclusions from it on these matters. The role of material things in the spiritual life was contested. The Eucharist, so central to the worship of the late medieval church, became especially divisive in the sixteenth century. Even so, much of the ancient ordo remained in place for corporate worship, and there were shared goals for liturgical reform, enacted to varying degrees not only among Protestants, but among Roman Catholics as well. In keeping with their doctrines, reformers sought liturgical simplification, more frequent and improved preaching, greater honor toward God and a deeper, more appropriate relationship with God. Despite the many changes that were made, there were some very basic continuities in the practice of public worship. As Martin Luther noted in his Large Catechism, “Misuse does not destroy the substance, but confirms its existence.”2 Sunday remained the central time of celebration, and weekday services continued in most traditions. Worship remained liturgical in the sense of following a prescribed, or at least highly predictable, plan. With few exceptions, including the first generation of Anabaptists, there was very little extemporaneous worship. The basic pattern of worship established in the early centuries of the Church persisted. The service of the Word, including prayer, 157

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 157

12/19/2000 10:00:41 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

reading, and preaching, came first. Then, when celebrated, the Eucharist (or Lord’s Supper) followed, including Christ’s Words of institution, prayers and the sharing of the elements. The argument is sometimes made that the Reformation, building on certain strands in late medieval piety, made Christianity more individual and interior,3 yet the sixteenth-century traditions all retained a strong sense of the corporate in their theologies of worship. As Thompson notes, in Calvinist understanding, the liturgy was “the corporate instrument of this chosen people, by which they received God’s most holy Word and published his most worthy praise.”4 Even Anabaptists who stressed individual commitment strongly valued the gathering for worship of the “fellowship of believers.”5 Because the Anglican tradition was a State Church from the start, it maintained strong commitments to broad corporate life. From Thomas Cranmer on, this Church held that its liturgical celebrations were the “prime experience of its corporate identity and of its mission.”6 Catholics continued to share the expectation of collective attendance at mass and increasingly cultivated religious understanding in a corporate vein. In continuity with late medieval goals, reformers wanted to see an increase in the theological understanding of Christians as they gathered for worship.7 This was a commonplace among Protestants as they were articulating new doctrines, promoting biblical knowledge and seeking to change traditional assumptions and practices. In his preface to his Deutsche Messe, Luther wrote, “[Worship orders] are needed, most of all, for the sake of the simple minded and the youth, who shall and must be drilled and trained in the Scriptures and God’s Word every day so that they may become familiar with the Scriptures, apt, well-versed and learned in them, enabled to defend their faith and in due time may teach others and help to increase the Kingdom of Christ.8 In Geneva, a catechetical service was instituted between the Sunday morning and evening services to serve children and those who could not yet give a good account of their faith. Catholics gave renewed attention to the prône, vernacular prayers and announcements delivered in the course of the liturgy of the mass, and put it to catechetical use.9 The Council of Trent acknowledged that “the mass contains much instruction for the faithful.” Therefore, “the holy council commands pastors and all who have the cura animarum that they, either themselves or through others, explain frequently during the celebration of the mass some of the things read during the mass, and than among other things they explain some mystery of this most holy sacrifice, especially on Sundays and festival days.”10 Vernacular preaching in conjunction with public worship continued from the later Middle Ages, but in the sixteenth century everyone wanted more and better sermons. As O’Malley has noted, “both Protestants and Catholics were heirs to the revival that began with the mendicant orders in the thirteenth 158

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 158

12/19/2000 10:00:41 AM

Preaching and Worship

century, to the criticisms of the style and content of that preaching that swelled to a crescendo by the end of the fifteenth century, and to alternatives advocated and practiced in certain circles even before 1517.”11 Protestants made preaching the central act of worship; among Catholics, sermons could be preached before, during or after worship. While the doctrinal content of preaching varied, the homily style became increasingly popular. In contrast with the highly stylized medieval scholastic sermon, the homily followed the biblical text, providing explanation and application as the preacher worked his way through the pericope. Along with commitments to teaching and preaching, there was an increased focus on hearing in worship. Sight had played a vital spiritual role in late medieval worship and would continue to do so among Catholics; newly image-free sanctuaries would make a theological point visually among some groups of Protestants. Yet hearing gained a new theological value among Protestants and across the board served to draw together worshippers’ attention. When sanctuaries were renovated, or new ones built, attention was given to facilitating hearing the spoken word. For instance, in Reformed temples, the pulpit was located centrally along the long side of the building with benches ranged around it. As balconies were added, pulpits were elevated.12 Among Catholics, there was a greater stress on hearing what the priest was saying through much of the mass. As the Council of Trent mandated, “During the time that the sacred services are being performed, let there be no talking and idle conversation, but let mouth and mind be united with the celebrant.”13 New Catholic churches had shorter chancels with attention to pulpits and acoustics.14 Such shared values yielded diverse worship practices because of differing underlying theological convictions about how God and God’s benefits became available to humans. Worship belonged to the economy of salvation. All sought to have Christ appropriately at the center. The Catholic Church continued to focus worship via the Sacraments “through which all true justice either begins, or being begun is increased, or being lost is restored.”15 The Eucharist remained the focal point of Sunday worship. Here, through the work of the clergy, a sacrificial offering was made which was pleasing to God and grace-conveying to recipients. Trent declared, “[W]e must confess that no other work can be performed by the faithful that is so holy and divine as this awe-inspiring mystery, wherein that life-giving victim by which we are reconciled to the Father is daily immolated on that altar by priests.”16 The grace available here contributed to one’s salvation and could be received by both physical communion and spiritual visual participation.17 John White has argued that Luther’s 1520 treatise, “The Babylonian Captivity of the Church,”18 laid the foundation for all Protestant worship. It articulated a paradigm shift from the sacramental delivery of grace to the proclamation and 159

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 159

12/19/2000 10:00:41 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

hearing of God’s Word as the central act of worship. “Essentially, the treatise extends to worship Luther’s overriding concept of salvation as a free gift from God not earned by human efforts.”19 More broadly, Senn notes that “reformers were concerned that both liturgy and doctrine should express the relationship with God that was being newly experienced and expressed as a result of fresh interpretations of Holy Scripture. . . . The experience of encounter with a gracious God who makes promises to his elect people had its liturgical corollary in an emphasis on what we receive from God and a de-emphasis on what we offer to God.”20 The worshiper’s receptivity to God was liturgically implemented by Protestant reformers. According to Luther, “The words ‘I am thy God’ are the standard and measure of everything that can be said about worship.”21 The God whom Christians worship is the God who acts on behalf of His people, in history as recorded in the Bible, and in the present in Word and Sacrament. Christians worship because they are commanded to receive these blessings by faith.22 For Zwingli, a posture of quiet reverence was essential to worship. “Churchgoers were not expected to rush into the traditional activities of worship—seeing and doing, making adoration and oblation to the righteous God—but to wait in stillness and repose upon the loving heavenly Father, that they might hear His Word and receive His gift of forgiveness and sonship.”23 Cranmer believed, “the act of Christian worship was receptive. . . . He thus concentrated the whole sacramental economy into reception—of the Word, of the seal and certificate of baptism, and of the signs of bread and wine in the Supper of the Lord.”24 As the channel of such receptivity, faith became central to the Protestant understanding of worship. Calvin defined faith as “a firm and sure knowledge of the divine favour toward us, founded on the truth of a free promise in Christ, and revealed to our minds, and sealed on our hearts by the Holy Spirit.”25 Preaching and sacraments were the chief ways in which such faith is graciously given. Similarly, Luther’s theology of worship was developed along the lines of God and faith. God gives gifts, such as Word and Sacrament; faith rests on these gifts. Luther famously claimed that “the ear is the only organ of a Christian,” for faith comes through hearing the Word of God (Rom. 10.17). Following medieval understanding, Luther believed hearing to operate more passively than sight, for sound impinged on the ear while sight required the deliberate act of reaching out with a “visual ray” to encounter an object.26 Thus worship based on hearing theologically underscored the receptive mode of the worshipper. To facilitate the cultivation of faith, all Protestant traditions adopted a vernacular liturgy said in full voice, claiming, as the Book of Common Prayer expressed it, that Latin did not reach “hartes, spirite, and minde” of the congregation.27 160

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 160

12/19/2000 10:00:42 AM

Preaching and Worship

The sine qua non of every Protestant service was the sermon. For many Protestants, hearing a sermon was virtually synonymous with worship. French Reformed Christians referred to worship as aller au sermon. Luther claimed that “the chief and greatest aim of any Service is to preach and teach God’s Word.”28 This priority followed directly from the Protestant conviction that the Bible was God’s Word, authored and confirmed by the Holy Spirit. Because God speaks, and accomplishes what he promises, the practice of reading and preaching the Bible became the fundamental means of grace. Luther asserted, “It is the manner of the New Testament and of the gospel that it must be preached and performed by word of mouth and a living voice. Christ himself has not written anything, nor has he ordered anything to be written, but rather to be preached by word of mouth.”29 Old elaborates, “As Luther understands it, the Holy Spirit convinces us that the outward word which is read in the Bible and preached from the pulpit is indeed that inner Word which God speaks in our hearts.”30 Other reformers made similar claims. Zwingli taught that the Bible originated with God and the Holy Spirit confirmed this for hearers. He maintained, “I understand Scripture only in the way that it interprets itself by the Spirit of God. It does not require any human opinion.”31 The Word of God “brings the light of full salvation and grace to the human soul.”32 Thus the reading and preaching of Scripture are means of grace. Calvin too taught that the Bible is the Word of God, carefully presented in human language for human understanding. Calvin testified, When the Gospel is preached in the name of God, this is as much as if he himself did speak in his own person. . . . I speak, but it behooves that I hear myself being taught by the Spirit of God. . . . When then God speaketh unto us, by the mouth of men, then he adjoins the inward grace of his Holy Spirit, to the end, that the doctrine be not unprofitable, but that it may bring forth fruit.33 Among the Anabaptists, preaching from the Bible was often the means to conversion, an act of God. Hubmaier spoke of a “baptism of the spirit” which came “about through the living Word of God.”34 According to Menno Simons, “where the gospel is preached in true zeal, so that it penetrates the hearts of the listeners, there one finds a converted, changed and new mind.”35 Showing Christ as Savior was central to Protestant preaching. Luther claimed that whenever he preached, he saw an image of the crucified Christ before him. He wanted his hearers to say, “I do not believe in my pastor, but he tells me of another Lord whose name is Christ; him he shows me.”36 Christ, as prophesied in the Old Testament and come in the New was central to Zwingli’s preaching.37 Calvin asserted that preaching was the chief means of 161

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 161

12/19/2000 10:00:42 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

bringing about the life-giving union of Christ with the believer. The ministry of the Word, and preaching in particular, shows believers Christ. I say the ministry of the word is like a mirror. For the angels do not need preaching, or other inferior aids, or sacraments. They have the advantage of another way of seeing God, for God does not show them His face merely in a mirror; but He presents himself openly before them. But we, who have not yet scaled such heights, look upon the image of God in the Word, in the sacraments, and in short, in the whole ministry of the Church.38 Seeing Christ, worshippers are then transformed into his image. Stylistically, as well as theologically, the biblical text became central to most Protestant preaching. The patristic homily style was embraced, where the preacher proceeded through a text much like a teacher providing a biblical commentary. This required the preacher to take the words of the text very seriously, but did not result in a simplistic biblicism. Most Protestants stressed the need for the preacher to study the text, often employing original languages and other tools of humanism. Luther was very focused on the meaning of text; in his sermons he included comparisons of German or Latin with Hebrew or Greek.39 Luther prioritized the historical meaning of the text, “yet he wanted, especially when commenting on the Gospels, to get under the actions to the teaching the actions signified. This ‘sacramental,’ ‘spiritual,’ or ‘mysterious’ level of exegesis, to use his terms, corresponds in a generic way to the allegorical level.”40 In addition to teaching, Luther also believed that good preaching called for exhortation. He told his hearers what to do in light of the Gospel message. They should read their Bibles, stop paying for masses, not follow human traditions like fasting during Lent, replace vows of celibacy with marriage vows, and so on.41 Fidelity to Scripture was also a hallmark of Zwinglian preaching. Although few of Zwingli’s sermons remain, Zwingli became famous for abandoning the lectionary and preaching the Bible, lectio continua. In January 1529 he began preaching through the gospel of Matthew, having only the Bible in the pulpit with him. He later defended this innovation. “I have never planted any other plant than that which Christ planted at the direction of his Father, which cannot be rooted up. For three years ago now . . . I preached the entire Gospel according to Matthew.”42 He continued to preach through nearly the whole of the Bible until his death in 1531. Old names Calvin “the supreme exegete of the Reformation.”43 Like earlier reformers he stressed grammatical-historical exegesis and did so with the skill of a well-trained humanist. He expected the preacher to study the Bible and faithfully pass on what the text said, presenting the promises and warnings of God so that they could be received by faith. When the preacher entered the 162

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 162

12/19/2000 10:00:42 AM

Preaching and Worship

pulpit he was to apply the Word profitably to the people, “like a father dividing the bread into small pieces to feed his children.”44 Calvin was critical of those who simply relied on the spontaneous witness of the Holy Spirit when preaching. “If I should enter the pulpit without deigning to look at a book and should frivolously think to myself, ‘Oh well, when I preach, God will give me enough to say,’ and come here without troubling to read or think what I ought to declare, and do not carefully consider how I must apply Holy Scripture to the edification of the people, then I should be an arrogant upstart.”45 Spontaneity, however, was highly valued among early Anabaptist communities. Although records of Anabaptist preaching are sparse due to the tenuousness of their existence in the sixteenth century and their commitment to immediate inspiration by the Holy Spirit, preaching was central to Anabaptist worship. In the early years, proclamation of biblical texts was done by anyone with a gift of prophesy, not just the pastor.46 Hubmaier allowed for prophesying where the congregation asked questions of text and pastor.47 After the first generation with its theologically trained leadership passed, it became traditional to have at least two preachers in a service. In [south German and Swiss congregations] they would be chosen as all the ordained met only moments before the service began. The first proclamation would be a brief devotional reflection on a text to open the service and set its tone. The second proclamation was a major discourse whose theme was often the ways of God with humanity—lessons of God’s interventions in Old and New Testament times or the challenges of discipleship . . . After the main sermon any of the ordained present were invited to “give witness.” This meant that they could add affirmation or insight to the preacher’s words.48 In England, the key Reformation leaders were not known as preachers in the way that Luther, Zwingli, and Calvin were. While there was growing emphasis on the Bible, a vigorous articulation of a theology of the pulpit was politically unpopular as rulers themselves sought to govern the pace and style of religious change.49 Still many Edwardian and Elizabethan bishops were good preachers. Early on, Hugh Latimer preached in the late medieval scholastic style, although as he became more Protestant, his sermons became more expository. John Hooper used the homily genre, having learned to preach on the continent.50 Among Puritans, William Perkins articulated his approach to preaching. Read the text from scripture, explain its meaning clearly, make a few profitable points of doctrine, and apply the doctrine to “the manners of men in simple and plain speech.” Because the sermon was a tool for conversion, it had to make its appeal to the hearer both logically and emotionally.51 163

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 163

12/19/2000 10:00:42 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

The late medieval church produced a host of model sermon collections designed to facilitate preaching among those who might not be able to construct sermons on their own, and this practice continued in the sixteenth century. Luther’s House Postil, “Sermons on the Gospels for Sundays and the Principle Festivals,” and Church Postil, “The Exposition of the Epistles and Gospels for the Whole Year,” achieved wide popularity. Some Anabaptist groups, such as the Hutterites, used standardized sermons.52 Perhaps the most famous Reformation collections of model sermons were the Anglican books of homilies. The Book of Homilies was published in 1547: Certain Sermons, or Homilies, appoynted by the Kynges Maiestie, to be declared and redde, by all Persones, Uicars, or Curates euery Sonday in their Churches, where they haue Cure. The second book followed in 1571. These sermons were topical and provided basic doctrinal catechesis. Across the Protestant traditions, sermons tended to reinforce characteristic themes in the reigning doctrine strengthening the congregation’s theological understanding. Lutheran preaching aimed for clarity on the doctrine of justification by grace through faith, applying its attendant categories of interpretation of Law and Gospel, works and faith, wrath and grace to texts of the Old and New Testaments. Doctrinal guides to preaching were developed, such as Urbanus Rhegius’ A Guide to Preaching about the Chief Topics of Christian Doctrine Carefully and without Giving Offense.53 The Reformed tradition showed a great concern with both individual sanctification and the transformation of society. They cultivated the so-called third use of the Law where scriptural mandates were taken as guidance for Christian living. Zwingli’s sermons often had a political edge to them. Gordon comments, He detested every aspect of . . . false religion, and as a preacher he used the pulpit to attack the established religion by linking his vision of reform with issues which stirred deep resentment in the community: the tithe, political corruption, mercenary service, and the indolence of the clergy. Zwingli hammered away at the contrast between the harsh and sordid reality of daily life and the promises of scripture. He used contrasting images to make his point, speaking in polarities to rouse the people. In so doing, Zwingli not only spiritualized dissent, but held out the promise that society could be made better; the justice of God could be realized in this world.54 Calvin understood preaching to bring about not only justification by faith, but also sanctification by faith. A prayer for illumination was offered before the sermon, asking that Christ would “guide us by his Holy Spirit into the true understanding of his holy doctrine, making it productive in us of all the fruits of righteousness.”55 John Leith notes, “As a churchman, Calvin relied 164

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 164

12/19/2000 10:00:42 AM

Preaching and Worship

on preaching to create a godly public opinion in the community and to be a means of grace in the life of the church. Preaching for Calvin took priority over discipline as a means of social change as well as of strengthening the life the church.”56 Preaching also received renewed attention among Roman Catholics. Trent highlighted the necessity of preaching the Gospel and ordered that bishops do it themselves and see that it was done in their dioceses. All those with cure of souls shall, at least on Sundays and solemn festivals . . . feed the people committed to them with wholesome words in proportion to their own and their people’s mental capacity, by teaching them those things that are necessary for all to know in order to be saved, and by impressing upon them with briefness and plainness of speech the vices that they must avoid, and the virtues that they must cultivate, in order that they may escape eternal punishment and obtain the glory of heaven.57 The Gospel message was understood to encompass both scripture and tradition handed down from the days of the apostles. Catholics did not expect the Bible to have the clarity that other traditions asserted. And, given the religious ferment of the day, to check unbridled spirits, [the council] decrees that no one relying on his own judgment shall, in matters if faith and morals pertaining to the edification of Christian doctrine, distorting the Holy Scriptures in accordance with his own conceptions, presume to interpret them contrary to that sense which holy mother Church, to whom it belongs to judge of their true sense and interpretation, has held and holds, or even contrary to the unanimous teaching of the Fathers.58 Preaching was a central feature of new religious orders founded in the sixteenth century. It was listed first in the Jesuits’ Formula, laying out their ministerial priorities. Jesuits often preached by invitation in churches before or after mass; they also did a great deal of open air preaching in imitation of the apostles, seeking to reach those who might not attend church.59 Their Constitutions forbade them from preaching in the scholastic style of the later Middle Ages, but early on there seems to have been no overarching Jesuit style. Humanist influence was significant, and young Jesuits were to study the classical tradition of rhetoric, especially with regard to “moving the affections.”60 Cardinal Bellarmine, representing a mature Jesuit vision, wrote that the preacher should discern the genuine literal sense of the passage, and then preach what the Holy Spirit wants to have preached from the passage, using the doctrines 165

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 165

12/19/2000 10:00:42 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

of the Church and its rules for living. To be effective, the preacher needs to give persuasive reasons for his exhortations from revelation, meditation, and personal experience.61 According to O’Malley, the Jesuits did not have a systematically worked out theology of preaching. Nor did they, or other Catholic preachers, have a single doctrinal touchstone, such as the Lutheran justification by grace through faith, which governed their preaching. “They did, however, share a practical conviction that nature and grace somehow worked together—in this case, natural and acquired gifts in conjunction with supernally derived powers to touch the heart. . . . The primacy went without question to the gifts from above, communicated within.”62 Like Protestants, these Catholic preachers were convinced that God worked through them and their preaching. Jerónimo Nadal wrote, “Power in the Spirit means to speak from the heart and to speak with the forceful grace of the sacred word.” It is a great grace and excellent office in the church of God to be ministers of the Word of God. We know in the Spirit, my brothers, that Christ is also the infinite Word of God. We are ministers of that Word—for he sends us [to preach]; he teaches us; he is the Word inside us; he grants that we hear the Word of his teaching and know that it proceeds from him; he gives us our effectiveness, and he supplies love and divine power to our utterance.63 In addition to preaching, Jesuits also gave instructional “sacred lectures.” Often a Jesuit assigned to a church would preach on the Gospel in the morning, and then lecture on another part of the New Testament in the afternoon. The Pauline epistles, especially Romans, were often selected. In Lutheran areas, this became an opportunity for providing an alternative exegesis and confronting error. The lectures seem often to have proceeded verse by verse, with commentary from a wide variety of sources. The literal sense of the text was to be stressed here, leaving the “mystical sense” for sermons.64 Turning now from preaching to worship services as a whole, Protestants exalted the role of the Bible. Not only was it to be preached, it was to be consulted for divine guidance on ordering human worship. But Lutherans, Reformed groups, Anabaptists, and Anglicans made different assumptions about what they would find there and how it should be used. Their interpretations often depended on the relationship they believed to hold between the physical world and the spiritual, between matter and God. As a result, they differed on the role of ceremonial, music, and material objects in worship and on the understanding of the sacraments. Although Roman Catholics had valued and continued to value the Bible as divine revelation, with regard to reforming the mass, they particularly stressed the authority of historical church teaching and liturgical practice. 166

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 166

12/19/2000 10:00:42 AM

Preaching and Worship

While the Catholic Church continued to maintain the necessity for a sacramentally ordained priesthood, an important theological affirmation for the practice of worship among Protestants was the priesthood of all believers, articulated early by Luther in “To the Christian Nobility.”65 Protestant churches continued to have clergy, but they affirmed that any Christian might intercede for another, declare God’s forgiveness to another, and proclaim the Gospel in public via speech, writing, or song. Lay participation in worship expanded to include verbal proclamation through singing and participation in prayers. As suggested by the title of the Anglican Book of Common Prayer, congregant prayer during the course of worship was to be on the same page as that of the clergy, instead of personal prayer in parallel with the liturgy as was often the case in the later Middle Ages.66 While clergy generally retained the obligation and privilege of preaching, laypersons were encouraged to read the Bible. Several generalizations can be made concerning the sacraments among Protestants. In keeping with their commitment to the Bible and in continuity with the medieval conviction that a sacrament must be authorized by the Words of Christ in the New Testament, they reduced the number of sacraments from the Catholic seven to two—baptism and Eucharist. Baptism remained the rite of entry into the church. All except the Anabaptists continued to baptize infants, while the pressure to baptize immediately after birth to ensure salvation eased under the doctrine of justification by grace. All non-Catholics rejected Eucharistic transubstantiation as unbiblical, even though they contentiously disagreed on how Christ was present when the Sacrament was celebrated. Many preferred the term “Lord’s Supper” and celebration at a table rather than an altar in fidelity to the biblical example and to distinguish their ritual from the sacrificial Catholic mass. Protestants encouraged participants to receive both bread and wine as the disciples had done at the Last Supper, and to partake more frequently than the late medieval minimum of once a year at Easter. Such practices were traditionally associated with priests and thus were also encouraged by the priesthood of all believers.67 It is often said that Luther was the most conservative of the Protestant Reformers. As Luther read the Bible, justification by grace through faith was his interpretive lens. He was willing to retain a great deal from the late medieval mass; it was only necessary to jettison things that deliberately contradicted his understanding of the Gospel. As Luther wrote, “it is not now, nor has it ever been, in our mind to abolish entirely the whole formal cultus of God. But to cleanse that which is in use, which has been vitiated by most abominable additions, and to point out a pious use.”68 He asserted Christian freedom with respect to specific liturgical forms, but believed forms were necessary for training in faith and love of neighbor.69 Vajta explains that this was a consequence of the incarnation. 167

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 167

12/19/2000 10:00:42 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

The God revealed is the God of pulpit and altar. Not the God who is hidden in eternal majesty and glory, but the God who is revealed is adored. As the God who is worshiped, God is clothed in the earthly media of the Word, of Baptism, and of the Lord’s Supper, wherein he reveals himself. For only here is Christ present and active. By revealing himself in Christ, God himself instituted a definite form of worship. In the incarnation he humbled himself to meet us on the earthly level and clothed his gift to us in earthly forms. Thus there can be no fellowship between God and man except through the means of grace which belong to God’s revelation in Christ.70 Luther’s instructions for worship retained, for example, such traditional prayers as the Kyrie, Sanctus and Gloria, the use of chant, the Elevation of the Host and chalice, and lectionary readings. Candles and vestments could continue to be used. Artwork remained in churches, although its reinterpretation was often in order. In addition to traditional service music, Luther composed and used vernacular hymns to help re-shape piety from penitence to rejoicing in God’s gift of salvation.71 As Luther declared, next to the Word of God, the noble art of music is the greatest treasure in the world. It controls our thoughts, minds, hearts, and spirits . . . Our dear fathers and prophets did not desire without reason that music be always used in the churches. Hence, we have so many songs and psalms. This precious gift has been given to man alone that he might thereby remind himself that God has created man for the express purpose of praising and extolling God.72 Sacraments were, to Luther, extensions of preaching; they were “visible words of God” and essential parts of worship. Lutherans often grouped the altartable, pulpit, and font at the front, providing a single liturgical focal point.73 Baptism continued to be offered to infants as a proclamation of God’s offer of salvation to those who could do nothing to earn it. Water used in conjunction with God’s Word “brings about forgiveness of sins, redeems from death and the devil, and gives eternal salvation to all who believe it.”74 Do infants have faith to access the Sacrament? Luther teaches that they are given faith, just like other Christians. “To be sure, children are brought to baptism by the faith and work of others; but when they get there and the pastor baptizes them in Christ’s stead, it is Christ who blesses them and grants them faith and the kingdom of heaven.”75 The canon of the mass was a central target in Luther’s reform of worship as it claimed to be a sacrifice, that is, a human work offered to God. Luther placed Christ’s words of institution at center stage, “for in that word, and 168

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 168

12/19/2000 10:00:42 AM

Preaching and Worship

that word alone, reside the power, the nature, and the whole substance of the mass.”76 As promises, they were proclaimed to the congregation rather than prayed to God. Luther focuses on “for you” and “for the forgiveness of sins” as the essence of the Sacrament yielding forgiveness, life, and salvation.77 Taking the words of Christ, “This is my body,” quite straightforwardly, Luther taught that participants in the Eucharist received the body and blood of Christ along with the bread and wine. In keeping with the incarnation, the physical did not impede the spiritual, but served as its vehicle. Communion was offered weekly. In contrast with Luther’s liturgical freedom, Zwingli sought to reform worship in ways that conformed very closely to the witness of the New Testament. “That Christ’s Supper is seriously abused has been brought out quite strongly and clearly from the Word of God for a long time: therefore, it will be necessary to remove from it everything which does not conform to the divine Word.”78 Thus, Zwingli proceeded to jettison all for which he did not find warrant in the Scriptures such as repeated prayers, incense, candles, holy water, vigils, intercession of saints, claiming that the “whole rubbish-heap of ceremonials” amounted to “tomfoolery.”79 As a result, worship services in Zurich had “a consistent austerity.”80 Zwingli was further motivated to simplify worship by his conviction that faith is given in freedom by the Holy Spirit, not through any physical channels or external means. Humans were dreadfully prone to idolatry, and so, not only were physical props unnecessary for worship, they were dangerous. Zwingli understood images to have a real power to distract worshippers from God.81 Hence the newly and lavishly redecorated Zürich cathedral was stripped and whitewashed in a systematic iconoclasm, eliminating visual distractions from worship and expunging extra-biblical practices like veneration of saints. Similarly, although Zwingli was a musician and composer, music was eliminated from the Sunday service on account of its appeal to the senses. On most Sundays, worshippers were left with a few prayers and the sermon. A characteristic theological theme of the Reformed tradition was that of covenant, understanding the Old and New Testaments as a single covenant in two dispensations of promise and fulfillment. Thus baptism was offered to children, incorporating them into the church community, in parallel with the covenantal circumcision of infants in the Old Testament. This did not convey salvation; that would be accomplished by the Spirit whenever God willed. When it came to the Lord’s Supper, Zwingli was inclined “to prescribe as little ceremonial and churchly custom” as possible, although he acknowledged that some ceremonial was needed “to keep the action from being performed wholly without life and shape, and to make some concession to human weakness.”82 Zwingli described the Supper as “a memorial . . . a thanksgiving and a rejoicing before Almighty God for the benefit which He has manifested 169

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 169

12/19/2000 10:00:43 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

to us through his Son.”83 Zwingli was very clear that nothing was communicated via the elements, for, as John 6.63 teaches, “The flesh is useless.” The Holy Spirit was understood to be present in the community as worshipers contemplated Christ’s loving sacrifice on Calvary, laying hold of it “as surely and undoubtedly as if it were shown to the natural eye.”84 Calvin’s worship services were plain, but less austere than those of Zwingli. He asserted that “true religion must be conformable to the will of God as its unerring standard.”85 Calvin’s liturgical criteria were the warrant of scripture and “the custom of the ancient church,” as indicated by the subtitle of his 1542 liturgy for Geneva. By ancient church, he meant the church of the apostles, martyrs, and Fathers before the rise of the Papacy. Christians honored and served God by attending worship. Along with preaching, Calvin called for much prayer in public worship. According to The Form of Church Prayers, services began with a prayer of confession, acknowledging human sinfulness and divine mercy. Calvin believed that God was glorified when people acknowledged their need and turned to God. After the sermon, a lengthy prayer on Calvinist themes was offered by the pastor interceding for rulers, pastors, those needing grace, and those suffering; it continued with petitions for godly living, forgiveness, and strength in temptation.86 Human weakness was helped by such structure. Shifty, slippery, inattentive is the mind toward thinking of God unless exercised by prayerful speech and song. The glory of God ought to shine in the various parts of our bodies, and especially in the tongue, created to sing, speak forth, tell, proclaim the praise of God. And the tongue’s chief task is, in the public prayers offered in the assembly of believers, with one common voice, with a single mouth, to glorify God together, to worship him together in one spirit, one faith.87 Metrical psalmody was a distinctive contribution of the Calvinist worship tradition, providing the chief form of vocal participation for the congregation. The Psalms were understood as divinely inspired songs, ideal for giving voice to Christian prayer over a wide range of needs and spiritual experiences. As Calvin wrote in the preface to his Psalter, “We know from experience that song has great force and vigor to arouse and inflame the hearts of men to invoke and praise God with a more vehement and ardent zeal.” Special melodies were written for psalm singing which Calvin wanted to be “neither light nor frivolous, but have gravity and majesty.”88 Reformed Christians were encouraged to sing the Psalms outside of corporate worship to help cultivate their piety. As preaching brought the believer into deeper union with Christ, so did the Sacraments. “[As God] communicates His riches and blessings by His word, so He distributes them to us by His sacraments.”89 Calvin taught that 170

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 170

12/19/2000 10:00:43 AM

Preaching and Worship

baptism signified joining the church and being engrafted into Christ; Christ accomplishes inwardly what the external sign shows.90 In the Supper, offered quarterly in keeping with Swiss practice, the believer is spiritually fed with Christ’s vivifying life. The minister prays, “In steadfast faith may we receive His body and blood, yea Christ Himself entire, who being true God and true man, is verily the holy bread of heaven which gives us life.”91 This happens as the elements are received, but they are not the focus of attention. “Let us not be fascinated by these earthy and corruptible elements . . . seeking Him there as though He were enclosed in the bread or wine.”92 The communion service ends with a prayer on the characteristic Reformed themes of gratitude and godly living.93 Among Protestants, the Anabaptists stood out for their goal of strict adherence to the New Testament, particularly to the Gospels and the Sermon on the Mount. Simons claimed that “God’s infallible Word” was the only authority to be trusted, not “the wisdom and glosses of the learned ones,” ancient tradition, papal decrees or imperial mandates. He further claimed that Luther and Zwingli failed follow their own sola scriptura mandate.94 Anabaptists did not want to reform the church; they wanted to reestablish it “according to the true apostolic rule and criterion.”95 Liturgical simplification was most extreme among Anabaptists. “There is not a word to be found in the Scripture concerning their anointing, crosses, caps, togas, unclean purifications, cloisters, chapels, bells, organs, choral music, masses, offerings, ancient usages, etc.”96 Thus all such things had to go. Practical considerations also contributed to simplicity since early worship services were often held secretly or inconspicuously due to the dangers of persecution. In later generations, in settings of tolerance, modest meeting houses were built, although some groups preferred to continue meeting in houses or barns.97 Early Anabaptists understood themselves as a charismatic community with the Holy Spirit present in individuals and the gathered church. According to Rempel, “When they met, the heart of the matter was interpreting the scriptures and building one another up for mission. Singing, preaching, praying, and prophesying according to the pattern of I Corinthians 14 provided an organic pattern for worship.” Although Anabaptists continued to value the immediate inspiration of the Holy Spirit, a predictable order and liturgical vocabulary gradually took shape as values and practices were internalized by participants and the pressures of persecution and fatigue decreased spontaneity.98 Anabaptists affirmed the priority of divine action, but human response in the forms of obedient discipleship and the practice of the sacraments garnered a great deal of attention in the worshiping community.99 In keeping with their reading of the New Testament, Anabaptists rejected the baptism of infants, 171

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 171

12/19/2000 10:00:43 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

insisting that baptism was for those who had already experienced new birth in Christ. As a response to faith and repentance, it was a defining moment in the life of the believer and essential to the constitution of the church. Simons wrote that they are true congregations of Christ who are truly converted, who are born from above of God, who are of a regenerate mind by the operation of the Holy Spirit through the hearing of the divine Word, and have become the children of God, have entered into obedience to him, and live unblamably in his holy commandments, and according to his holy will with all their days, or from the moment of the their call.100 The practice of the ban ensured the purity of the community. The lack of such discipline in other communions was seen as evidence of the absence of the Holy Spirit.101 Anabaptists celebrated the Supper, but did it with the utmost simplicity. A description of the celebration among Anabaptists of the lower Rhine describes the minister giving each one a piece of bread and all eating their portions together. “The minister, however, used no words, no ceremonies, no blessing.” After the bread, each one took a drink of wine.102 Even so, the supper was often a joyful celebration for, as Menno Simons reported, “they have with a certainty of mind grasped it in the spirit, have believed and known that the Father loved us so that he gave us poor, wretched sinners his own and eternal Son with all his merits as a gift, and eternal salvation.”103 Following the gospel witness, many Anabaptists practiced foot washing in conjunction with the Lord’s Supper. Dirk Phillips urged this practice because it was commanded by Christ, signified outwardly the inward cleansing of Christ, and embodied the humility called for in the Supper.104 While singing held a valued place in the worship of most Protestant traditions, this was especially true among the Anabaptists, where it provided “the most profound form of self-expression for the congregation.”105 In 1560s, two hymnals were published in Dutch and two in German. The texts included Roman Catholic, Protestant, and patristic texts, martyr ballads and psalms. Song leaders led the congregation without accompaniment. Hymns often identified the present with the apostolic age and contained a substantial focus on suffering and martyrdom.106 Among the sixteenth-century revisions of worship, the Anglican tradition is often hailed for its enduring liturgical sensibilities. The Book of Common Prayer, first mandated for national use in 1549, provided both clergy and laity with a single book to guide their worship. It marked out a moderate, distinctive set of revisions to late medieval practice, influenced especially by humanism and Lutheran teaching, with a substantial move toward Reformed theology in its 172

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 172

12/19/2000 10:00:43 AM

Preaching and Worship

1552 edition. In England the liturgy itself became the key source of Anglican theology.107 Cranmer aimed to restore what he understood to be patristic practice in reading most of the Bible in worship over the course of a year. In the Book of Common Prayer, “is ordeyned nothyng to be read, but the very pure worde of God, the holy scriptures, or that whiche is euidently grounded upon the same; and that in suche a language and ordre, as is moste easy and plain for the understandying, bothe of the readers and hearers.”108 Sunday worship included readings from both the Old and New Testaments using a lectionary; daily morning and evening prayer adopted readings lectio continua. These popular daily services afforded the congregation much verbal participation through the recitation of psalms, canticles, and prayers.109 England experienced iconoclasm and simplification of liturgy, although Puritan elements longed to see a more complete departure from the Catholic liturgical and theological past. The Windsor Commission defended their moderate approach. Christes Gospell is not a Ceremoniall lawe (as muche of Moses lawe was), but it is a relygion to serue God, not in bondage of the figure or shadowe: but in the freedome of spirite, beeying contente onely wyth those ceremonyes whyche dooe serue to a decente ordre and godlye discipline, and suche as bee apte to sitrre uppe the dulle mynde of manne to the remembrauce of his duetie to God.110 The use of service music continued with John Merbecke producing the Book of Common Prayer Noted in 1550. Psalm singing took root early on, but England was slow to adopt the singing of hymns, apparently through a shortage of composers.111 Infant baptism was practiced with significantly less ceremony than previously; Luther’s “Flood Prayer” and the reading of Jesus’ blessing of the children from Mark 10 were added.112 As was the case elsewhere, parents were encouraged to have their child baptized on a Sunday when many would be present to bear witness to the child’s reception into the body of Christ and to be reminded of their own baptisms.113 The Eucharist remained a central feature of Anglican worship. Although the first edition of the prayer book encouraged weekly communion, this did not become standard practice. With the 1552 edition, the norm became three times a year,114 with a strong exhortation for all present to partake. In the 1549 liturgy, Cranmer subtly turned the offering of elements to a memorial, offered as a sacrifice of “praise and thanksgiving.”115 Still, many believed the liturgy was compatible with Catholic Eucharistic theology. The 1552 version made that impossible by removing “any link between the elements and Christ’s 173

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 173

12/19/2000 10:00:43 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

body and blood,”116 replacing the altar with a table and adding the “Black rubric” warning that kneeling at communion does not imply “any reall and essencial presence . . . of Christ’s naturall fleshe and bloude” in the elements.117 Cranmer shared Calvin’s conviction that preaching and sacraments function similarly in order to unite the believer with Christ. Accordingly, [T]he true eating and drinking of the . . . body and blood of Christ, is with a constant and lively faith to believe, that Christ gave his body and shed his blood upon the cross for us, and that he doth so join and incorporate himself to us, that he is our head, and we his members, and flesh of his flesh, and bone of his bones, having him dwelling in us, and we in him. And herein standeth the whole effect and strength of this sacrament. And this faith God worketh inwardly in our hearts by his Holy Spirit, and confirmeth the same outwardly to our ears by hearing of his word, and to our other senses by eating and drinking of the sacramental bread and wine in his holy Supper.118 The Roman Catholic worship tradition did not undergo the radical changes of the other traditions. Here liturgical reform was guided by commitments to historical fidelity, clarity, edification, and uniformity. The sacraments and worship were debated at all three sessions of Trent, and a papal commission was set up to do the actual work of liturgical reform. The Council acknowledged that accretions to the liturgy of the mass “that are foreign to the dignity of so great a sacrifice” needed to be abolished, as well as those had been introduced through “irreverence” or “superstition.”119 In so doing, the Catholic Church joined the ranks of those reforming worship to better reflect their doctrine, here especially that of Christ’s real Eucharistic presence via transubstantiation. Humanism was influential, especially in encouraging a uniformity of rite in the Latin Church in a liturgy that was compatible with the standards of the ancient church. Such work resulted in the Roman Breviary (1568), the Roman Missal (1570), the Roman Pontifical (1596), the Bishops Ceremonial (1600), and the Roman Ritual (1614).120 In the face of Protestant challenges, Trent kept the number of sacraments at seven and continued to assert their necessity for salvation as unique channels for grace. Clergy retained their special status as those who could celebrate the Eucharist and Latin was retained as the liturgical language. The Vulgate was the Bible to be used. Specific sacramental claims of non-Catholic groups were explicitly rejected. The mass continued to be seen as a sacrifice offered to God. As Jungmann explains, “the Mass is definitely a sacrifice under a two fold aspect: it is the sacrifice of Christ re-represented or made present anew; and as re-representation it is also itself an offering, an oblatio, a sacrifice.”121 In keeping with this understanding, the words of institution remained part of the 174

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 174

12/19/2000 10:00:43 AM

Preaching and Worship

prayer of the canon, not a declaration made to the congregation. In fact, the canon of the mass was declared as “so free from error that it contains nothing that does not in the highest degree savor of a certain holiness and piety and raise up to God the minds of those who offer.”122 The mass was the joint work of Christ and the church. “For the victim is one and the same, the same now offering by the ministry of priests who then offered Himself on the cross, the manner alone of offering being different.”123 Although there were changes to Catholic worship spaces in the sixteenth century, such as the removal of rood screens and the destruction of certain images no longer favored (such as three bearded men for the Trinity),124 Roman Catholicism did not experience the iconoclasm of the Reformed or Anglican traditions. In contrast, it opted for lavish visual display to honor God, instruct worshipers, and focus devotion. The victory of truth over falsehood was often vividly depicted in Jesuit churches. Some had very elaborate visual sequences reflecting Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises, leading the worshiper through self-examination and illumination to union with God.125 Jesuit churches in particular tended to become more like theaters, with the altar at center stage, displaying a tabernacle for reserved hosts and marked off by communion rails.126 Perhaps the quintessential image of worship in the sixteenth century was that of gathered worshipers listening to a sermon. Preaching gained in importance across all traditions in the pedagogical urgency of sixteenth-century reform. Christian truth was at stake, and doctrine drove liturgical changes. In all their variations, reformers wanted their parishioners to be theologically informed, to understand who they were before God, what God had done for them, how they were to receive these blessings and live them out. But worship, including preaching, went beyond instruction. Animated by the Holy Spirit, worship provided grace and nurtured believers’ relationship with God. For Protestants, grace came especially through the reading and preaching of the Bible. God spoke and God’s words were effective to save, comfort, transform, and empower. Sacraments were especially tangible forms of preaching. For Catholics, the Sacraments themselves delivered grace, with the Eucharist having pride of place. Their preachers often focused on catechesis, virtue, and vice. What that image would not immediately reveal, but what was palpable to contemporaries, is that by the mid-sixteenth century, many Christians, in their attempts to honor and praise God could not worship together.

Select Bibliography Primary Sources Book of Concord, ed. Robert Kolb and Timothy J. Wengert. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2000. www.bookofconcord.org/. 175

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 175

12/19/2000 10:00:43 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology Calvin, John. Ioannis Calvini opera quae supersunt omnia, ed. Wilhlem Baum, Edward Cunitz, and Edward Reuss, 59 vols, Corpus reformatorum, 29–87. Burnsvigae: Schwetschke [Bruhn], 1863–1900. —. Institutes of the Christian Religion, trans. Henry Beveridge. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1989. —. Writings on Pastoral Piety, ed. and trans. Elsie Anne McKee. Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2001. —. Works. www.ccel.org/c/calvin/?show=worksBy www.reformed.org/master/index.html?mainframe=/books/institutes/ The Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, trans. H. J. Schroeder, O. P. Rockford, IL: Tan Books and Publishers, 1978. http://history.hanover.edu/texts/trent. html. Church of England. The First and Second Prayer Books of Edward VI. London: J.M. Dent & Sons, 1957. Cranmer, Thomas. The Works of Thomas Cranmer, 2 vols, ed. John Edmund Cox. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1844–6. Hubmaier, Balthasar. Balthasar Hubmaier: Theologian of Anabaptism, trans. and ed. H. Wayne Pipkin and John H. Yoder. Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1989. Luther, Martin. D. Martin Luthers Werke. Wiemar: H. Böhlau, 1883–. (WA). —. Luther’s Works, 55 vols, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan, et al. St Louis, MO: Concordia Publishing House and Philadelphia, PA: Muhlenberg Press and Fortress Press, 1955–86 (LW). —. “Small Catechism and Large Catechism.” In The Book of Concord, Theodore G. Tappert (ed.). Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1959. —. “To the Christian Nobility of the German Nation.” “The Babylonian Captivity of the Church.” In Three Treatises, 2nd rev. edn. Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1970. Simons, Menno. The Complete Writings of Menno Simons, ed. John C. Wenger. Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1956. Thompson, Bard (ed.). Liturgies of the Western Church. Philadelphia, PA: Augsburg Fortress Press, 1980. Zwingli, Ulrich. Huldreich Zwinglis Samtliche Werke, 55 vols, ed. Emil Egli, Georg Finsler, et al. Berlin: C. A. Schwetschke und Sohn, 1905. —. Selected Writings of Huldrych Zwingli, 2 vols, ed. Edward J. Furcha. Allison Park, PA: Pickwick Publications, 1984.

Secondary Sources Edwards, O. C. A History of Preaching. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2004. George, Timothy. Theology of the Reformers. Nashville, TN: Broadman & Holman Publishers, 1988. Jungmann, Josef A., S. J. The Mass: An Historical, Theological and Pastoral Survey, trans. Julian Fernandes, S. J. and ed. Mary Ellen Evans. Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press, 1976. Maag, Karin and John D. Witvliet (eds). Worship in Medieval and Early Modern Europe: Continuity and Change in Religious Practice. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2004.

176

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 176

12/19/2000 10:00:43 AM

Preaching and Worship Old, Hughes Oliphant. The Reading and Preaching of the Scriptures in the Worship of the Christian Church, vol. 4: The Age of the Reformation. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2002. Senn, Frank C. Protestant Spiritual Traditions. Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1986. Vajta, Vilmos. Luther on Worship: An Interpretation, trans. U. S. Leupold. Philadelphia, PA: Muhlenberg Press, 1958. Wainwright, Geoffrey and Karen B. Westerfield Tucker (eds). The Oxford History of Christian Worship. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006. White, James F. Protestant Worship: Traditions in Transition. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1989. —. An Introduction to Christian Worship, rev. edn. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1990.

177

9780567033604_Ch10_Final_txt_print.indd 177

12/19/2000 10:00:43 AM

11

Women, Marriage, and Family Karen E. Spierling

Even though in all women there has been imperfection, men have not been exempt from it. Why is it necessary to criticize women so much, seeing that no woman ever sold or betrayed Jesus, but a man named Judas? Who are they, I pray you, who have invented and contrived so many ceremonies, heresies, and false doctrines on earth if not men? And the poor women have been seduced by them. Never was a woman found to be a false prophet, but women have been misled by them. . . . Therefore, if God has given grace to some good women, revealing to them by his holy scriptures something holy and good, should they hesitate to write, speak, and declare it to one another because of the defamers of truth? Ah, it would be too bold to try to stop them, and it would be too foolish for us to hide the talent that God has given us, God who will give us the grace to persevere to the end. —Marie Dentière, Epistle to Marguerite de Navarre (1539)1 Any woman who wrote on the topics of scripture or religious practice in the sixteenth century had to defend her authority as a woman, as Marie Dentière—a Genevan inhabitant, the wife of a Reformed pastor, and sometime preacher herself—does here. Although Dentière’s letter to Marguerite of Navarre focuses primarily on a defense of Reformed theological principles and an attack on Catholic tenets, she begins with a brief section on the “Defense of Women”.2 As this excerpt suggests, female reformers appealed directly to God (as revealed through Scripture) to defend their right and obligation to speak or write about religious matters. In doing so, they were engaging a variety of topics and questions debated among all the leading male reformers of the Reformation period. Dentière’s confident assertion here about the responsibility of divinely graced women to speak out on scriptural topics belies (or perhaps reflects) the fact that by 1539 mainstream male reformers generally agreed that women did not have the authority to be public religious leaders or teachers. All of the leading male reformers argued that the main responsibilities of a faithful Christian woman were her domestic roles of wife and 178

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 178

12/19/2000 10:01:24 AM

Women, Marriage, and Family

mother; any obligations that women had to teach about faith were limited to the education of their children in the privacy of their homes. Within this overall consensus, however, lay a variety of nuances of argument and scriptural interpretation. Dentière’s statement above evokes most of the key themes addressed in Reformation discussions and debates regarding women, in particular: women’s weakness or imperfection, inextricably linked to women’s connection to original sin; women’s religious authority, closely tied to the question of whether women were allowed to teach or had to “keep silent” in the public presence of men; and most generally a defense of the established social hierarchy and the authority of men over women. Reformation theologians—including a handful of women such as Dentière who would not publicly have claimed the title theologian—debated all of these issues based on the teachings of Scripture, but these were in no way obscure topics or questions focused on the concerns of salvation and the afterlife. The leading male reformers’ views of women, their nature, and their proper God-given roles had immediate social relevance and helped to circumscribe the participation of women in shaping the Reformation during the sixteenth century and later. Although often addressed together, the topics of women, marriage, and the family are not one and the same; none of them fully encompasses or is fully encompassed by the other two. Nonetheless, the roles of wife and mother were so fundamental to both men’s and women’s definitions of women and women’s lives in the sixteenth century—both in secular society, such as it existed, and in defining Christian communities—that it makes sense to consider all three topics together, and it would be pointless to try to separate them from one another entirely. Reformation discussions about the nature and proper roles of women received relatively little scholarly attention until about the 1970s.3 In the decades since, social historians in particular, and historical theologians to some extent, have made considerable progress in developing our understanding of Reformation-era ideas and debates about women.4 One of the challenges for scholars pursuing such questions is that few Protestant reformers produced substantial works dedicated to ideas about women; rather, discussions of women are dispersed throughout the commentaries, sermons, and other publications of most leading reformers, with the exception of a few works focused on marriage. Perhaps as a result of this scattered nature of reformers’ discussions of women, a book-length comparative analysis of sixteenth-century theological discussions about women has yet to be produced.5 In order to provide a summary of the key issues at play in Reformation discussions and debates about women, this chapter will focus on the following topics: First, the nature of women as divinely created creatures and the role of woman in the fall from grace; this, of course, laid the foundation for any discourse on the proper roles of women. Secondly, the question of 179

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 179

12/19/2000 10:01:25 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

women’s religious authority and capacity to be public religious leaders. Thirdly, reformers’ views on women’s divinely ordained roles as wives and mothers. And finally, very briefly, Catholic views of and reactions to these various Protestant ideas regarding women. In the interest of grounding this discussion of Reformation ideas firmly in the context of the sixteenth century, we will begin with a brief overview of the emergence of the Reformation and its implications for women.

The Coming of the Reformation The early years of the Reformation seemed to open possibilities to a wide swathe of the Western European population. In the wake of Luther’s posting of his Ninety-Five Theses in 1517, critiques of the Roman Catholic Church raised by Christian humanists like Erasmus developed into outright attacks by determined reformers. Very quickly issues such as the rules for participation in church leadership, the interpretation of one’s relationship to God, and the consequences of that reinterpretation for one’s place in society became openly debated questions, rather than matters reserved for discourse among university theologians. Some women saw and heard opportunities in the ideas being preached and spread, first by Martin Luther, and soon by a variety of reformers, each with his own approach and nuances of interpretation. As Luther’s notion of the priesthood of all believers spread and reformers encouraged faithful Christians to turn away from the corruption (as they saw it) of the Roman Catholic Church and to rely directly on Scripture to understand God’s will for humankind, these debates gained a wider variety of readers and listeners, including women as well as men from the lower social and economic strata. Written records survive for only a relatively few (welleducated) women who actively and publicly participated in Reformation discussions, but those who did were forceful in their language and confident in their authority to speak as faithful Christians and in men’s and women’s equal access to the saving grace of Jesus Christ. As the Reformation spread during the 1520s and the social and political impacts of Luther’s teachings began to manifest themselves, the teachings of the mainstream reformers regarding the equality of Christians quickly became more conservative and narrowly defined. Perhaps most famously, after the Peasants War of 1524–25, Martin Luther emphatically rejected the notion of earthly social or economic equality among Christians, emphasizing only spiritual equality. While this fracture between Luther and many Germanspeaking peasants is now a standard part of any Reformation textbook, the related experiences of women interested in the Reformation have only begun to receive significant attention in recent decades. Women who aspired to take an active role in the Reformation experienced restrictions similar to those of the 180

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 180

12/19/2000 10:01:25 AM

Women, Marriage, and Family

peasants in the 1520s and 1530s (albeit with less violent and bloody enforcement). In view of this exclusion of women from Protestant roles of leadership, some modern historians and theologians of the 1970s and 1980s tended to condemn reformers like Calvin and Luther for not being more open-minded about women, while others interpreted them as being, deep-down, defenders of women’s rights but before their time. More recently scholars have emphasized, instead, the need to place these men in their historical contexts. For Luther and other mainstream reformers, the Peasants War and other experiences of 1520s and 1530s—including the 1534 takeover of Münster by apocalyptic Anabaptists—demonstrated the danger of pushing religious reform in too radical a direction. For men like Luther, in order to focus on reforming the church, it was important that the surrounding society remain stable. The religious wars of the later 1500s belie the possibility of maintaining general social stability in the face of great religious change, but gender relations were apparently more easily controlled than relations between Protestants and Catholics. The sixteenth-century reformers themselves began what is, in some form, an ongoing debate about the impact of the Reformation on women.6 Protestants had to defend themselves against Roman Catholic attacks (written by both male polemicists and female nuns) that charged that the reformers were threatening women by closing down convents and excluding life as a nun as a possibility for women. The traditional Protestant argument, articulated by Luther himself, countered that the Reformation released women from the confines of convents and raised the status of marriage, thus raising the status of women.7 In recent decades, some historians have begun to argue that in closing the convents and abolishing any official position for women in the church, the Protestant Reformation limited women’s options, taking away the freedom that many nuns had to live an unmarried life and to devote themselves to scholarship or service.8 During the Reformation period, such debates about the proper religious and social roles of women and the impact of religious reform on women were most often articulated in terms of theological arguments about the nature of women and the place of woman, as compared to the place of man, in God’s creation. Therefore, we will now turn to Reformation debates on the nature of women.

The Nature of Women Most male reformers’ understanding of the nature of women was grounded in the key distinction between spiritual equality, on the one hand, and earthly (physical, social, economic, political) inequality, on the other. Luther’s notion of the priesthood of all believers raised, for some people, the possibility of both spiritual and social equality—or, at least, of less social and economic inequality. 181

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 181

12/19/2000 10:01:25 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

As noted above, however, during and after the Peasants War, Luther refined his idea of a priesthood of all believers to emphasize the equality of all Christians in the eyes of God, vehemently rejecting any suggestion that Christians had the right or duty to overturn the established social order. Creating positions of church leadership for women would have done just this. As the principle of sola scriptura was a basic tenet for all Protestant reformers, the debate over the nature of women was really a debate about what the Bible said about the nature of women—not, at least not explicitly, an argument from recent history or the personal experiences of reformers. As it did on many social topics, the Bible presented contradictory teachings regarding the nature of woman and her proper relationship to both God and man. As a result, reformers like Luther and Calvin were not establishing an original debate. They were, rather, responding to and building on arguments among Christian theologians that had accumulated over the centuries since the formation of the early church. But in some ways, the sixteenth-century discourse on the nature of women took on a new sense of urgency due to the potential social and religious upheaval brought on by Reformation teachings about faith and the church. Perhaps foremost among the scriptural issues regarding women that Reformation theologians had to address was the fundamental problem of Eve and her relationship to original sin. The Genesis accounts of Eve’s creation and the fall of Adam and Eve, taken together with related New Testament passages (especially Pauline teachings), were the primary source for theologians’ arguments and assertions about the nature of women—and, thus, about the appropriate role of women in sixteenth-century society. The reformers addressed the Genesis passages in both sermons and commentaries, grappling with the question of how correctly to understand the relationship between Adam and Eve, as well as that between both of them and God. No sixteenth-century theologians dismissed the Genesis story altogether, but there was some variety in how they resolved the tensions they found there. Among the questions raised in the book of Genesis, theological writers—including some women as well as men—had to address the issues of the subordination of women, the precise role that God intended for women in daily life, the role of Eve in the fall from grace, and, related to this, women’s relative weakness as compared to men. To begin with, Genesis presented the challenge of two stories of the creation of woman, each with different implications for understanding the overall nature of woman. The two passages in questions were Genesis 1.26–8, especially verse 27: “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him, male and female he created them”; and Genesis 2.18–24, in which God clearly creates Eve after Adam, taking a rib from his side.9 The debate over the correct interpretation of these passages was further complicated by related New Testament passages, including the Pauline texts 1 Corinthians 11.7–9: 182

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 182

12/19/2000 10:01:25 AM

Women, Marriage, and Family

“For a man ought not to cover his head, since he is the image and glory of God; but a woman is the glory of man. (For man was not made from woman, but woman from man. Neither was man created for woman, but woman for man.)”; and 1 Timothy 2.13: “For Adam was formed first, then Eve; and Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor.” One of the questions raised by these passages was that of Eve’s (and thus woman’s) subordination to Adam (man). To begin with, Genesis 1.26–8 presented Adam and Eve as equal in both their creation and their dominion over all other creatures. Since the early church fathers, scriptural commentators had “found it easier to subordinate Genesis 1 to the more detailed narrative of Genesis 2, not vice versa.”10 But even Genesis 2.18–24 presented complications; in particular, both before and during the Reformation, it prompted a debate over the relationship between first creations and best creations. Paul’s statement in 1 Timothy assumed that what was first (Adam) was best, and what was second (Eve) was less perfect and, thus, subordinate. While sixteenth-century reformers generally accepted this “argument from sequence,” they also acknowledged its problematic nature, recognized at least since the time of Chrysostom.11 One of the basic questions of the debate was whether God would have created something less perfect the second time around when, according to human experience, later creations tend to be better than earlier creations. A variety of sixteenth-century writers noted this problem, including Luther, who commented that “in human affairs it can happen that a later work can be better. . . . But in scriptures [this is not so]”12; and Calvin, who remarked that “Paul’s argument . . . does not seem to be very strong, for John the Baptist went before Christ in time and yet was far inferior to him.”13 Despite these acknowledgments, male reformers generally defended Paul’s argument, thus bolstering the defense of women’s subordination to men in all aspects of human society. For Protestants, this debate over God’s intentions regarding the subordination of women did not impinge on salvation—as noted, the idea of spiritual equality was widely accepted by both male and female reformers. The subordination debate was, however, crucial for reformers’ stances on society as it existed—in this case, on their understanding of proper gender relations. Especially in his later writings, Luther asserted his belief that man and woman had been equal partners in the perfect prelapsarian society, but such equality could not be recaptured in the fallen world.14 Mainstream reformers believed that faithful postlapsarian society was inherently imperfect and problematic, and Christians were obliged to accept the institutions provided by God to organize and stabilize fallen society. Women’s social, political, religious, and economic subordination was one aspect of this fallen state. In their discussions of women’s earthly subordination, theologians often addressed not only the contrast between prelapsarian and postlapsarian 183

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 183

12/19/2000 10:01:25 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

society, but also the question of Eve’s responsibility for the fall itself. The story of the fall, as told in Genesis 3, was further enhanced by Paul’s assertion in 1 Timothy 2.14: “Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor.” Christians commentators, before and during the Reformation, generally accepted the premise that even before the fall, Eve was weaker than Adam, and this weakness explained why she was susceptible to the serpent’s deceit. In western Christian society, this idea of woman’s inherent weakness had long been connected to stereotypical female faults such as pride, superstition, and garrulousness, and most male Reformation writers were no exception to this tradition.15 But, as with the question of creation, reformers’ general acceptance of the basic notion of woman’s weakness belied the variety of nuance found in their discussions of the fall and Eve’s responsibility. The conundrum here was how to connect subordination, responsibility, and guilt. The key question was whether only Eve was to blame or whether Adam and Eve might somehow have shared the blame for the fall and their expulsion from Eden (and, thus, the great imperfection of human society as it existed in the sixteenth century). Again, earlier Christian writers had not overlooked this problem, but it received increased attention during the Reformation. The basic question was how Eve could be fully responsible for the fall—that is, fully responsible for her own actions—and yet still fully subordinate to Adam in prelapsarian creation. While the Bible clearly stated that Eve had been deceived by the serpent, it was less explicit about whether or not Adam had been deceived when he chose to share in the forbidden fruit. This was potentially a critical issue, because susceptibility to deceit implied a flaw or weakness. Protestant reformers dealt with this in a variety of ways, although ultimately all the main stream Protestant leaders affirmed Eve’s greater weakness, recognizing it as the main justification for her subordinate state from the moment of her creation. Wolfgang Musculus observed that “if Adam was not deceived, then he must have sinned deliberately and thus with greater culpability”; if he was guiltier than Eve in the original sin, then, Musculus suggested, perhaps Eve should have had dominion over him. This, however, was not a tenable conclusion for sixteenth-century reformers, and Musculus persisted further to conclude that, due to her inherent faults and other weaknesses, Eve “ced[ed] dominion back to Adam, and to all men.”16 Yet in the same commentary, Musculus added a caution that the story of Adam and Eve should not be taken to mean that no man can be deceived, nor that all women are susceptible to Satan’s temptations.17 Calvin struggled with the same issue, and while he ultimately judged Eve to bear greater guilt than Adam, he held her fully culpable based on the fact that she was not more ignorant than Adam but was, rather, “amply endowed with ‘reason and understanding’.”18 Similarly, the Roman Catholic theologian Cajetan held Eve fully responsible 184

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 184

12/19/2000 10:01:25 AM

Women, Marriage, and Family

for her actions in Eden based on his understanding that she was “[e]quipped with a fully rational soul like that of her husband and armed with a direct knowledge of the Creator’s will regarding the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.”19 But for Cajetan, as for most sixteenth-century theologians, Eve’s rationality did not fully overcome her subordination to Adam. As this example illustrates, Protestant reformers did not discover the contradictions in scriptural teachings regarding women and gender relationships, but the combination of the Protestant emphasis on sola scriptura and the desire of the mainstream—or “magisterial”—reformers to retain the support of political authorities and establish churches that were part of society as it existed led to both intensive grappling with those contradictions and determined efforts to avoid socially revolutionary conclusions. Male reformers such as Luther and Calvin needed to defend the integrity of their theological positions while also creating churches that were socially and politically viable. Once the break from Rome appeared to be long-lasting, if not permanent, it was crucial to create a sustainable church to replace the “corrupted” one. This is not to suggest that Protestant writers were disingenuous in their interpretations of Scripture, but rather to acknowledge that the leading male reformers of the sixteenth century believed that social and political institutions were established by God and, within certain limits, reflected God’s earthly intentions for humanity in ways that echoed properly understood scriptural teachings. In retrospect, however, we may observe not only nuances within certain reformers’ rhetoric (depending on time and/or audience) but also some dissonance between their public arguments about the role of women and their private dealings with individual women. Perhaps the best-known example is the contrast between some of the texts in which Luther rails against women as weak and secondary creations and the great affection and public respect that he demonstrated toward his wife, Katharina von Bora. Another example is the time and effort John Calvin put into courting the support of noblewomen such as Marguerite of Navarre, despite his public stance against women’s leadership in the church. And in Strasbourg, pastor Matthias Zell worked with his wife, Katharina Schütz Zell, as a partner in the pastoral endeavor.20 Such examples serve as a caution against concluding that male reformers’ views on women were absolute, one-dimensional, or immutable.

Silencing Women This is not, however, to cast a rosy glow over sixteenth-century theological discourses regarding women. Despite occasional hesitations or second thoughts about Scripture’s stance on the subordination of women, sixteenthcentury reformers, including many Anabaptist leaders, generally agreed that, while men and women were spiritually equal and would return to that state 185

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 185

12/19/2000 10:01:25 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

of equality after salvation, in this world God intended women to be subordinate to men.21 But it took a couple of decades for this view to be firmly established across the reform movements. Initially, the Reformation raised the question of women’s right and obligation to actively participate in spreading the Gospel and establishing Reformed churches. As with the general issue of subordination, the emergence of the more specific question of women’s ability to teach and lead was closely tied to the Protestant emphasis on sola scriptura. In this case, the Pauline texts of the New Testament alone provided apparently contradictory teachings regarding the status of women, and Protestant reformers sought to reconcile Paul’s teachings on the equality of Christians with his restrictions on women as religious leaders. The key relevant Pauline texts were 1 Corinthians 14.33–5: “As in all the churches of the saints, the women should keep silence in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be subordinate, as even the law says. If there is anything they desire to know, let them ask their husbands at home. For it is shameful for a woman to speak in church”; and 1 Timothy 2.11–12: “Let a woman learn in silence with all submissiveness. I permit no woman to teach or to have authority over men; she is to keep silent.” From almost the start of the Reformation, Luther’s notion of the priesthood of all believers challenged these texts, which had always underpinned the Roman Catholic Church’s exclusion of women from preaching and sacramental positions. When Catholic theologians accused Luther of violating these scriptural texts with his concept of a priesthood of all believers, Luther responded: Thus Paul forbids women to preach in the congregation where men are present who are skilled in speaking . . . because it is much more fitting and proper for a man to speak, a man is also more skilled at it. . . . Therefore order, discipline, and respect demand that women keep silent when men speak; but if no man were to preach, then it would be necessary for women to preach.22 Here Luther set out what would become a common Protestant argument: that it could be acceptable for women to preach or teach in temporary, emergency situations. This possibility did not, however, alter the fact that the contemporary sixteenth-century world was still a far cry from the Kingdom of God, and, according to mainstream reformers (as opposed to more radical reformers like apocalyptic Anabaptists), it was not the responsibility of Christians to transform it into the Kingdom of God. It was, rather, incumbent upon faithful Christians to accept the secular order as established by God for the good of humankind. Thus it might be acceptable for women to speak in exceptional circumstances, when no male leadership was available, but male reformers were not willing to take the step of making such female authority permanent.23 186

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 186

12/19/2000 10:01:25 AM

Women, Marriage, and Family

In the first decades of the Reformation, some women entered into this debate themselves. Female reformers had somewhat different priorities than did men, beginning with their need to defend their authority against dismissal or condemnation by male leadership on both the Roman Catholic and Protestant sides. At the same time, it is critical to understand that the relatively few women we know of who actively participated in theological discussions in the Reformation were just as passionately committed to the principle of sola scriptura as were their male counterparts. For these female writers, the only authority that ultimately mattered was that of God, as expressed through Scripture. Thus, for female writers, the Bible may have provided some restrictions, as in the above-mentioned passages from 1 Corinthians and 1 Timothy, but it also provided final and absolute justification for dismissing secular (male) authorities who were acting contrary to the will of God (as defined by the female writer). An outstanding example of a female writer both accepting the explicit restrictions of Scripture and mining the opportunity provided there can be seen in Argula von Grumbach’s 1523 letter to the University of Ingolstadt to protest the arrest and prosecution of a student, Arsacius Seehofer, for reading Luther and Melanchthon and holding “Lutheran” ideas.24 Beginning with the letter, von Grumbach became an outspoken defender of Luther, his ideas, and his colleagues; for several years her writings were circulated among a relatively wide audience, although ultimately her voice in Reformation discussions was suppressed. As an educated noblewoman, she was in a privileged position in terms of her ability to enter Reformation discussions. But, since she was not a man (and, thus, had no formal theological training), her authority was always in question, and she was dismissed altogether by many religious leaders, especially the Roman Catholic authorities of Ingolstadt and its university. Her writings demonstrate that she had taken to heart the principles of sola scriptura, sola gratia, and sola fide. And while she was cautious in her assertions about her authority as a female writer, the fact that she chose (or felt called) to participate in certain Reformation debates demonstrates that she took Luther’s idea of the priesthood of all believers a step further than he, ultimately, was willing to go. Nevertheless, she defended her initial participation by defining the situation in accordance with Luther’s statement above regarding exceptional circumstances. In building up her attack on the university for suppressing Luther’s teachings, von Grumbach described her increasing anxiety regarding the suppression of “the gospel”: However I suppressed my inclinations; heavy of heart, I did nothing. Because Paul says in 1 Timothy 2: “The women should keep silence, and should not speak in church.” But now that I cannot see any man who is 187

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 187

12/19/2000 10:01:25 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

up to it, who is either willing or able to speak, I am constrained by the saying: “Whoever confesses me”, as I said above. And I claim for myself Isaiah 3: “I will send children to be their princes; and women, or those who are womanish, shall rule over them.”25 She continued by quoting a long list of biblical passages, from both the Old and New Testaments, that refer to the Word of God coming from the weak or childlike, as well as to the fact that God is the only source of revelation and understanding. In this pointed attack on male (Catholic) theologians, von Grumbach explicitly employed the argument that her authority was founded both in God’s revelation through Scripture and in the fact that the situation constituted an emergency—specifically, the fact that no man had publicly stepped up to defend Seehofer, who was forced to recant a list of “Lutheran” teachings, or, according to von Grumbach’s beliefs, to reject the true teachings of Scripture and, thus, endanger his soul. While von Grumbach focused on emergent circumstance, other female writers, like Marie Dentière, emphasized the notion of equality in Christ (as expressed in Galatians 3.28): I ask, did not Jesus die as much for the poor ignorant people and the idiots as for my dear sirs the shaved, tonsured, and mitred? Did he preach and spread my Gospel so much only for my dear sirs the wise and important doctors? Isn’t it for all of us? Do we have two Gospels, one for men and another for women? One for the wise and another for the fools? Are we not one in our Lord? . . . There is no distinction between the Jew and the Greek; before God, no person is an exception. We are all one in Jesus Christ. There is no male and female, nor servant nor free man.26 The same Galatians passage received due attention from male reformers. But whereas Dentière’s writing suggested some implications of spiritual equality for earthly life, male theologians including Luther, Martin Bucer, Wolfgang Musculus, Heinrich Bullinger, and John Calvin all followed Augustine in distinguishing more strictly between the spiritual equality referred to in Galatians and the earthly social order that bound human beings in this life.27

Women as Wives and Mothers As they excluded women from the public work of spreading reform, male reformers instead assigned women the private task of overseeing Christian households and raising Christian children.28 In doing so, they faced the challenge of providing scriptural guidance and models for wifely behavior 188

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 188

12/19/2000 10:01:25 AM

Women, Marriage, and Family

and obligations. As in many areas where theology related to social practice, Protestant reformers confronted some tensions between the New Testament teaching that Christ replaced and made unnecessary the old law and the significance of the Old Testament as a basis of Christian authority, predictor of Christ, and an important and useful text for defending and justifying key social and familial structures in sixteenth-century society, including marriage. While New Testaments texts, including all of those mentioned so far in this chapter, provided important guidance regarding the proper relationship of Christian men and women, the New Testament as a whole provided few specific models of Christian wifehood or motherhood, aside from the impossible-to-replicate model of Mary, the virgin mother. Household codes such as those found in Ephesians 5.21–33 and 6.1–9 outlined the proper hierarchy of domestic authority —wives should submit to husbands, children should obey both parents, servants should obey masters—but the New Testament provided little further guidance, beyond the Pauline comments on the need for women to dress modestly (1 Tim. 2.9–10) or cover their heads (1 Cor. 4–7). As a result, Old Testament passages such as Proverbs 31 remained vital for Protestant teachings on how Christian wives and mothers should behave in their daily lives.29 The Protestant emphasis on woman’s role within marriage began with the rejection of clerical celibacy and the need to elevate marriage as a holy calling for both men and women. While the medieval Roman Catholic Church had recognized parenthood as a God-given duty for married people, it had continued to elevate celibacy above the married state. Thus the Protestant rejection of the ideal of clerical celibacy was a major challenge to the Catholic Church, as well as one of the most obvious points on which Catholics criticized and attacked Protestants. Debaters on both sides of this argument used passages from 1 Corinthians 7 to defend their point of view. Here Paul writes: It is well for a man not to touch a woman. But because of the temptation to immorality, each man should have his own wife and each woman her own husband. . . . I say this by way of concession, not of command. I wish that all were as I myself am. But each has his own special gift from God, one of one kind and one of another. To the unmarried and the widows I say that it is well for them to remain single as I do. But if they cannot exercise self control, they should marry. For it is better to marry than to be aflame with passion.” (1 Cor. 7.2, 6–9) Whereas Catholic theologians, before and during the Reformation, defended clerical celibacy by emphasizing Paul as the model Christian, reformers such as Luther focused on how impossible it was for most human beings to resist temptation and how much better it was to be married.30 189

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 189

12/19/2000 10:01:26 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Having accepted both the necessity and the Christian honor of marriage, Protestant reformers turned for guidance on marital relations in part to the intervening verses, 1 Cor. 7.3–5, especially verse 4: “For the wife does not rule over her own body, but the husband does; likewise the husband does not rule over his own body, but the wife does.”31 While some pre-Reformation Christian authors had written about the mutual obligations and affections of marriage, for Catholics this was always secondary to the ideal state of celibate commitment to Christ. During the sixteenth century, Protestant reformers developed fuller and more public discussions about the possibility of conjugal love, affection, and companionship within a pious Christian marriage. In addition to New Testament texts, these arguments in favor of companionate marriage sometimes returned to the Old Testament and the story of Eve’s creation, asserting that her emergence from Adam’s side, rather than from his head or his feet, represented some degree of equality between them that translated into mutual obligations in marriage.32 A few reformers, notably Bucer and Bullinger, envisioned the state of marriage itself as being a covenant instituted by God in Eden, rather than being a burdensome institution imposed as a result of original sin.33 While they varied in the degree to which they believed in mutuality within marriage and in how they constructed their arguments, Protestant reformers in general agreed that the responsibilities of a Christian wife and mother included running an orderly household (where her husband, as long as he was alive, was the final authority), engaging in pious behavior herself, and teaching her children the basic tenets of the Christian faith.34 Although it is easy to dismiss this emphasis on the domestic role of women as simply another example of harsh subjection, it may be more productive to consider such teachings in tandem with Reformation assertions on the proper role of husbands.35 Male reformers inevitably affirmed male authority: husbands were the heads of household and had final authority over their wives. And yet, placed firmly in sixteenth-century context, it is clear that many Protestant reformers were attempting to make significant changes in the way households worked. Most importantly, fundamental to most Protestant reformers’ acceptance of scripturally based male authority and female subordination was the notion that male authority carried with it a heavy burden. Reformers exhorted Christian husbands and fathers to exercise their authority with restraint and love. Not only this, but many reformers recognized that the mutual obligations of marriage included marital sex; theologians including John Calvin asserted that both wives and husbands deserved sexual satisfaction within the bonds of marriage. In his commentary on 1 Corinthians 11:11, Calvin wrote: But neither is the man without the woman. This is added partly as a check upon men, that they may not insult . . . women; and partly as a consolation 190

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 190

12/19/2000 10:01:26 AM

Women, Marriage, and Family

to women, that they may not feel dissatisfied with being under subjection. The male sex (says Paul) has a distinction over the female sex, with this understanding, that they ought to be connected together by mutual benevolence, for the one cannot do without the other. If they be separated, they are like the mutilated members of a mangled body. Let them, therefore, be connected with each other by the bond of mutual duty.36 This emphasis on encouraging loving Christian behavior by husbands and fathers is an excellent example of how mainstream reformers’ acceptance of the status quo of secular society had its limits. While Luther, Zwingli, Calvin, and their peers did not believe that the Christian community could be purified or fully separated from the corruptions of secular society, they did, each in their own way, believe that Christians had the obligation to try to improve society as best they could, and to ensure that their local communities operated according to Christian teachings as far as possible. This ability to envision a better, not a perfect, earthly society is crucial for understanding Protestant reformers’ stances regarding women. As noted earlier, giving women public religious authority (or political authority, apart from exceptions like queens and other noblewomen) would have altered the established secular order, but Protestant reformers firmly believed that women should be able to expect loving Christian treatment from their husbands and should be able to exert authority within their own homes, over their own children and servants. Importantly, Protestant reformers did not only write about such ideas in theological commentaries. They preached about them in sermons and in some cases, as with the Genevan consistory, attempted to enforce their visions of love and mutuality in marriage through the mechanisms of church discipline.37 Protestant idealism did not, however, solve the problem of troubled marriages. As pastors and community leaders, reformers had to face the question of what was acceptable when one or both partners were unhappy in a marriage. The Roman Catholic Church taught that marriage, being a sacrament, was indissoluble. Annulment—declaring that a marriage had never existed— was possible in cases of “pre-existing impediments,” including impotence and adultery. Canon law did allow for a legal separation of spouses in cases of adultery, heresy, apostasy, or cruelty, but it did not permit remarriage except in rare cases of extended absence when the absent spouse could be presumed dead. Protestants reformers, on the other hand, argued in favor of divorce and remarriage, but only for very limited causes. Again, the principle of sola scriptura was highly influential, as most reformers viewed adultery as the primary justification for divorce, based on Matthew 19.9: “And I say to you: whoever divorces his wife, except for unchastity, and marries another, commits adultery.” The second cause recognized by most Protestants was desertion. Luther stated outright that desertion and “refusal to engage in sexual relations” were 191

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 191

12/19/2000 10:01:26 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

acceptable reasons for divorce, while Calvin insisted that adultery was the only acceptable reason but defined abandonment as a type of adultery, arguing that it could be presumed that the spouse who had left would be unfaithful. Zwingli held that both impotence and misbelief were acceptable reasons for divorce, arguing both that sexual relations were an integral part of marriage (based on 1 Cor. 7.9) and that being an unbeliever was worse than being an adulterer (in other words, actions worse than the reason given in Matthew 19.9 must also be acceptable reasons for divorce). Anabaptist groups similarly acknowledged the legitimacy of ending a marriage to an unbelieving spouse.38 As the Reformation progressed, and religious tensions heightened in areas such as France, the issue of religious mixed marriage became more pressing. Theodore Beza, Calvin’s successor as leader of the Genevan Church, published a work in 1569, Tractatio de repudiis et divortiis, in which he considered the example of a faithful Christian wife whose unbelieving husband forced her to “attend the abominable mass.” Beza argued that any faithful spouse, male or female, who was forced to participate in intolerable (i.e., Roman Catholic) practices had no choice but to desert his or her unbelieving spouse and should be allowed remarriage to a faithful Christian.39 While Beza’s ideas seem to push the limits of Calvin’s arguments, perhaps based on changing circumstances, a few reformers argued for a longer list of acceptable causes for divorce from the beginning. As noted earlier, Martin Bucer was one of the reformers who emphasized most forcefully the importance of companionship in marriage; as a result, Bucer also made the case for the widest range of acceptable reasons for divorce, although he argued that the presence of children should make divorce more difficult to obtain and that there should be financial penalties for suing for divorce without due cause.40 Bucer’s ideas would not, however, appear in European divorce laws for several centuries; Luther and Calvin had more immediate impacts on legal codes in Protestant Europe. Based on the Protestant insistence that marriage was the appropriate and best state for faithful Christians, the Roman Catholic policy of permanent separation without remarriage was unacceptable. As a result, divorce became possible in Protestant areas for both men and women, mainly for adultery and desertion. It remained rare, however, and the majority of cases were still instigated by men.41 Furthermore, it is important to note the absence of cruelty or violence as an acceptable cause for divorce among Protestants. While Luther recognized the need for separation (but not divorce) in cases of extreme cruelty, Calvin insisted that a wife should stay with her husband unless her life was in danger.42 Although this stance in itself sounds cruel, Calvin’s concept of church discipline as embodied in the consistory was intended to help improve such situations and, among other things, to teach spouses how to live together more peacefully. 192

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 192

12/19/2000 10:01:26 AM

Women, Marriage, and Family

Protestant assertions about the importance of mutual respect and affection between spouses have often been overshadowed by the emphasis on female subjection discussed above, as well as by most reformers’ reluctance to permit divorce on the basis of violence or incompatibility. Nevertheless, the ideal of affectionate, companionate marriage is crucial to a full understanding of Protestant notions about both marriage and women. In relying on Scripture for guidance on women’s roles, reformers had to grapple with the themes of both subjection and equality. And while most sixteenth-century reformers were not revolutionary in obvious ways, certain Protestant ideas were radical in comparison to what came before, in particular the insistence on the spiritual equality of husbands and wives and the often fervent insistence on the burdens of male authority and husbands’ obligation to treat their wives lovingly and gently.

Catholic Reformation Views In their efforts to defend clerical marriage, justify the disbanding of convents, and dispense with the notion that saints (female or male) had any special power to intervene with God on behalf of faithful Christians, Protestant reformers emphasized the great importance of woman’s role as wife and mother. As noted earlier, however, Roman Catholics protested that Protestants were both violating Scripture and threatening the souls of female religious. The argument that Protestants restricted opportunities for women, rather than “freeing” them from the Roman Catholic Church, is supported by the writings of Catholic nuns who protested the closing of their convents and Protestant attacks on their way of life. In her Short Chronicle, describing the forced closing of the Convent of the Poor Clares in Geneva in 1535, Jeanne de Jussie expressed horror at a Protestant woman’s praise of marriage: [S]he praised the state of matrimony and freedom and claimed that Jesus’ apostles had all been married, even Saint John and Saint James and Saint Paul, and she said that Saint Paul himself had said it was a good thing to be married and to be two in one flesh. She perverted Holy Scripture and completely twisted it and turned sweet honey into bitter venom. The sisters could not stand it but shook their heads and shouted, “Oh, the great liar and the false devil incarnate!”43 Ultimately Jussie remained a nun, but she and her religious sisters lost their fight to maintain their convent in Geneva and were forced to flee into France. A somewhat different example can be seen in the person of Caritas Pirckheimer, the abbess of another Poor Clares convent, in Nuremberg. In 1525, Pirckheimer, a humanist-educated nun, challenged the Nuremberg city 193

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 193

12/19/2000 10:01:26 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

council’s decision to adopt the Reformation and close down local religious houses. She rejected the power of the secular authorities to intervene in the religious life of the convent and questioned the authority of Protestant reformers generally: We wish to abide by the text of the Holy Gospel and not to be separated from it either dead or alive. But if we are to accept an explanation I will much more securely believe the approved explanation of the dear and sacred teaching of the holy Christian church than the explanation of some alien mind, rejected and prohibited by Holy Church, and preached by those who are nothing but human.44 As a result of Pirckheimer’s efforts, the Nuremberg councils allowed religious houses to remain open, although they were no longer permitted to accept novices.45 This was a mixed blessing in comparison to the experience of the Genevan Poor Clares: in Nuremberg, women who belonged to the order at the time of the Reformation were able to maintain their chosen way of life (in the main), but joining a religious order was no longer an option for other women in the newly reformed region. While many nuns may have resisted, fought against, or fled the Protestant Reformation, ultimately the Catholic Reformation itself brought new restrictions into the lives of religious women. The Council of Trent (1545–63) affirmed the superiority of celibacy over marriage and insisted on more diligent enforcement of clerical vows. In contrast to mainstream Protestant Churches, the Roman Catholic Church continued to recognize the possibility of revelation through prophesies and visions, experiences often associated with female saints. At the same time, Catholic authorities became increasingly strict in asserting their control over the recognition of true revelations; as a result, during the second half of the 1500s and into the 1600s, religious women—both laywomen and nuns—increasingly risked being called before the Inquisition if they asserted that they had experienced divinely inspired visions or proclaimed prophesies that in any way challenged religious or secular authorities.46 Trent also reinstituted the policy of enclosing convents by requiring that nuns, once they had taken vows, remain within their convents. This practice severely limited the ability of nuns to live lives of public service, mainly restricting religious women to lives of prayer. Some groups, like the Daughters of Charity in France, did find ways around this restriction, but overall the Tridentine insistence on enclosure led to a decline in the population and finances of convents in the 1600s and 1700s.47 And finally, while Roman Catholic authorities emphasized that, in contrast to Protestants, the Catholic Church viewed marriage as a Sacrament, the Catholic Church also continued to hold celibacy as the highest ideal for faithful Christians. 194

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 194

12/19/2000 10:01:26 AM

Women, Marriage, and Family

Conclusion The nature and proper roles of women were not the main topic of discussion or argument for Protestant reformers or their Roman Catholic opponents. But as they began to put their theological ideas into practice and construct reformed churches and societies, all reformers, male and female, had to confront the issue of women’s participation. While the concept of a priesthood of all believers suggested the possibility of greater social equality—including gender equality—in this world, most male reformers quickly made a clear distinction between the spiritual equality of God’s Kingdom and the burdensome inequalities of the fallen world. A variety of sixteenth-century theologians, including Martin Luther, conceived of an ideal prelapsarian world in which men and women were equal in all ways—or at least, for some thinkers, far more equal than after the fall. But that world belonged to the distant past; the contemporary sixteenth-century world was bound by the stain of original sin and the institutions and hierarchies necessary to maintain order in the fallen world. To argue otherwise would have been to challenge the legal, economic, and social structure of sixteenth-century European society—and, according to the convictions of Reformation writers, to go against Scripture. Public proclamation of the possibility of equality between men and women would have opened the door to the possibility not only of religious leadership for women, but of greater economic and legal independence. Instead, Protestant reformers focused on emphasizing the spiritual equality of men and women and promoting women’s roles as Christian wives and mothers, responsible for promoting piety within the household and teaching their children the basic tenets of the Christian faith. While many reformers did advocate gentler and more loving behavior by husbands, and greater recognition of the serious burdens of male authority, they were limited in their ability to enforce this ideal. Ultimately, the early Reformation’s potential for creating revolutionary change in the perception and roles of early modern women gave way to scripturally based reinforcement of female subjection and male authority.

Bibliography Primary Sources Bucer, Martin. De Regno Christi. Libri duo. 1550. In Martini Buceri opera latina, vol. 15. François Wendel (ed.). Gütersloh: Bertelsmann, 1955. English translation in: Wilhelm Pauck, Melanchthon and Bucer. The Library of Christian Classics, vol. 19. Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1969. Bullinger, Heinrich. Der Christlich Eestand. Zurich, 1540. English translation: Miles Coverdale, The Christen state of Matrimonye. Antwerp, 1541.

195

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 195

12/19/2000 10:01:26 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology Dentière, Marie. Epistle to Marguerite de Navarre and Preface to a Sermon by John Calvin, ed. and trans. Mary B. McKinley. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2004. Karant-Nunn, Susan C., and Merry E. Wiesner-Hanks (eds). Luther on Women: A Sourcebook. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Matheson, Peter (ed.). Argula von Grumbach: A Woman’s Voice in the Reformation. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1995. Zell, Katharina Schütz. Church Mother: The Writings of a Protestant Reformer in Sixteenth-Century Germany, trans. and ed. Elsie McKee. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2006.

Secondary Sources Douglass, Jane Dempsey. Women, Freedom, and Calvin. Philadelphia, PA: The Westminster Press, 1985. Mattox, Mickey Leland. “Defender of the Most Holy Matriarchs”: Martin Luther’s Interpretation of the Women of Genesis in the Enarrationes in Genesin, 1535–1545. Leiden: Brill, 2003. Peters, Christine. Patterns of Piety: Women, Gender and Religion in Late Medieval and Reformation England. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Selderhuis, Herman J. Marriage and Divorce in the Thought of Martin Bucer, trans. John Vriend and Lyle D. Bierma. Sixteenth Century Essays and Studies. Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 1999. Stjerna, Kirsi. Women and the Reformation. Oxford: Blackwell, 2009. Thompson, John Lee. John Calvin and the Daughters of Sarah: Women in Regular and Exceptional Roles in the Exegesis of Calvin, His Predecessors, and His Contemporaries. Geneva: Droz, 1992. Thompson, John L. “Rules Proved by Exceptions: The Exegesis of Paul and Women in the Sixteenth Century.” In A Companion to Paul in the Reformation, R. Ward Holder (ed.), Brill’s Companions to the Christian Tradition, vol. 15, pp. 501–40. Leiden: Brill, 2009. Wiesner-Hanks, Merry. Women and Gender in Early Modern Europe, 2nd edn. New Approaches to European History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Witte, John, Jr and Robert M. Kingdon, Sex, Marriage, and Family in John Calvin’s Geneva: Volume 1, Courtship, Engagement, and Marriage. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdman’s, 2005.

196

9780567033604_Ch11_Final_txt_print.indd 196

12/19/2000 10:01:26 AM

12

Catechisms and Confessions of Faith Karin Maag

The popular understanding of the key distinctive theological teachings of the Reformation often features a recitation of Martin Luther’s three solas: sola gratia, sola fide, and sola scriptura—grace alone, faith alone, and Scripture alone. However, while these statements do serve as helpful mnemonic devices, they simplify to the point of distortion the more complex realities that shaped not only Lutheranism, but also Anabaptism, Zwinglianism, and Calvinism among others in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. In particular, the issue of “Scripture alone” was problematic practically from the start. Luther’s proclamation of “Scripture alone” was uttered in response to the contemporary Catholic practice of having both Scripture and tradition (the teachings of the Church Fathers and of early and medieval church councils) be authoritative in matters of faith and doctrine. For Luther and other Reformers, this practice was both dangerous and open to corruption, since allowing individuals or councils to decide what should be believed by the faithful could move the church away from the faith as taught in the Bible. Indeed, the Reformers consistently claimed that they themselves were not innovators in any way, but were simply restoring the church to its faithful adherence to the standards and beliefs of the church in the apostolic age.1 Yet in asserting that the source of doctrinal instruction in the church was to be “Scripture alone,” Luther and his colleagues opened the door to another set of challenges. Very quickly, the Reformers realized that individuals and congregations were adopting this idea with misplaced enthusiasm, leading to doctrinal diversity and divisions over the correct interpretation of biblical teachings on specific points of belief. Furthermore, especially for the first generations that were making the transition from Catholicism to Protestantism, the absence of effective teaching tools to communicate the fundamentals of the faith and clarify the key points of difference between Catholic and Protestant beliefs was sorely felt. Already by the early 1520s, the Reformation had begun to fragment over issues of doctrine, as Luther and his supporters clashed with those who favored a more thorough and swifter pace of change, led by Andreas Karlstadt and others, and with those whom Luther labeled 197

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 197

12/19/2000 10:02:07 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

“sacramentarians,” namely Huldrych Zwingli of Zurich and his followers.2 This pattern of division and hostility due to opposing doctrinal viewpoints over key teachings, such as the sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s Supper, or the role of the church in maintaining ecclesiastical discipline, persisted through the early seventeenth century. As the unity of Christendom became increasingly fractured, churches and their leaders began to create documents that would serve to rally their own supporters and distinguish clearly between acceptable and unacceptable beliefs. These documents, in the form of confessions and catechisms, were intended to serve as rallying points for adherents, to strengthen their own beliefs and identities, whether as Lutherans, Calvinists, Zwinglians, Anabaptists, or others. At the same time, these documents made clear the dividing lines between one confessional community and the next. Thus, as well as being tools of unity within a community, they also served as protective walls against those who believed otherwise. This contribution will consider the creation, use, and impact of a range of confessions and catechisms in turn, focusing less on their specific doctrinal content, and more on their use as crucial tools that helped shape and demarcate the diverse landscapes of Christian beliefs in early modern Europe. Before analyzing the use and impact of these documents, it is worth clarifying some of the key differences between catechisms and confessions. Although both could be and were taught and memorized, in general, catechisms were intended primarily as teaching tools within a given faith community, whereas confessions served more as markers between one faith community and its rivals. The situation becomes even more complex when taking into account the fact that in some instances, confessional statements could also underscore divisions between members of the very same church, as in the case of the Canons of Dordt. Thus, when discussing confessions in particular, the political context in which these documents were produced is highly relevant. Beginning then with the confessions, the most significant Lutheran one was the Augsburg confession, produced in 1530 but based on two previous Lutheran confessional statements, namely the Schwabach articles of 1529 and the Torgau articles of 1530.3 The immediate reason for the Augsburg confession was the meeting of the imperial Diet in the city in 1530. Because Luther was unable to attend, due to his status as an imperial outlaw, his second-incommand Philip Melanchthon headed the Lutheran delegation at the Diet, wrote the majority of the confession (albeit with feedback from Luther), and presented the document to the assembled representatives of the German princely states and the Emperor. The Augsburg confession proclaimed key Lutheran beliefs and rejected Catholic ones, albeit in a fairly moderate tone. The document also condemned the emerging Anabaptist teachings, including those advocating adult or believers’ baptism and those calling for believers to 198

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 198

12/19/2000 10:02:07 AM

Catechisms and Confessions of Faith

separate themselves from the secular world. Another divisive issue was the theology of the Lord’s Supper: the Augsburg confession rejected the Zwinglian approach, which understood Jesus’ words at the Last Supper symbolically. Hence the Augsburg confession was a document designed to stake out the Lutheran position in the face of pressures from all sides: Catholic, Zwinglian, and Anabaptist. It attracted support from German princes and city-states both before and after the meeting of the imperial Diet, and became one of the official identity documents for Lutheran churches, so much so that the Peace of Augsburg of 1555 accorded official religious recognition to the Catholic Church and to the churches that adhered to the Augsburg confession.4 Yet not all Protestant principalities or city-states in the German lands accepted the Augsburg confession of 1530 as the best or most appropriate formulation of their beliefs. For instance, four cities in the southern German lands submitted a different document, known as the Tetrapolitan confession, to the emperor two weeks after the Augsburg confession had been presented at the Diet.5 The Tetrapolitan confession reflected the views of the religious leaders of Strasbourg, Constance, Memmingen, and Lindau, who shared a confessional outlook that was closer to the Zwinglian model than to the Lutheran one. Thus the Tetrapolitan confession put greater emphasis on the Bible as the sole source of authority in the church, and carefully articulated a position on the Lord’s Supper that gave more room to the spiritual gift of Christ’s presence rather than to his physical presence in the bread and the wine, as held by the Lutherans. Yet the political situation of those who upheld the Tetrapolitan confession was so delicate that it never attracted much support from other leaders. Indeed, Strasbourg even abandoned its allegiance to the Tetrapolitan confession to switch over to the Augsburg confession later in the same decade. Yet the fact that the four cities still took the risk of articulating a confessional position that could anger both Lutherans and Catholics highlights the confessional complexity of the early Reformation period and the network of alliances that even crossed political borders. As noted above, the southern German cities that proposed the Tetrapolitan confession as an alternative to the emperor looked mainly to the Reformed Swiss cities rather than to Wittenberg for their doctrinal foundation. Because the Swiss cities that had accepted Protestantism did so at different times, and because of the traditional independence of each of the city-states in the Swiss lands, there was no general Swiss confession to match the Augsburg confession until 1536, when the First Helvetic Confession was drafted and agreed upon at a general meeting of Swiss Reformation leaders in Basel. Prior to this point, individual Swiss cities had each drafted their own confession, including Zurich (Zwingli’s Sixty-Seven Articles of 1523), Berne (the Ten Theses of 1528), and Basel (the First Confession of 1534).6 Basel specifically made it compulsory for all its inhabitants/citizens to formally adopt the First Confession. 199

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 199

12/19/2000 10:02:07 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

The push for a general agreement among Swiss Protestant cities in 1536 was motivated by the expectation that Pope Paul III was going to call together a general council of the church in the near future. The First Helvetic Confession was rapidly adopted by eight cities in the Swiss and south German lands, including Zurich, Berne, Basel, Constance, and Strasbourg.7 The fact that Strasbourg and Constance adopted the First Helvetic Confession in 1536 after crafting and presenting the Tetrapolitan Confession only six years earlier indicates again how limited the effectiveness of the Tetrapolitan Confession was, since it was so quickly eclipsed. At the same time, the number of cities that signed up to the First Helvetic Confession less than two months after it was written shows how significant political calculations and the need for allies were in inciting cities and principalities to line up behind one or other confessional statement. The First Helvetic Confession adopted a middle-of-the-road stance on the Lord’s Supper, asserting the symbolic and spiritual nature of the sacrament but at the same time rejecting the notion that the sacrament was in any way an empty sign. In spite of these conciliatory efforts toward the Lutherans, Luther himself, though initially not hostile to the document, ended up rejecting it as yet another “sacramentarian” text, especially when the signatories to the First Helvetic Confession refused in turn to adopt the Wittenberg Concord later in 1536. At the same time, the Lutherans were reinforcing their own doctrinal position through the Smalcald Articles, enacted in 1537. Here too, the motivating factor was the purported general council of the church that Pope Paul III was meant to be calling together. Luther was the chief author of the document, which was aimed at sharpening the distinctions between Lutherans and Catholics.8 In the seven years since the imperial Diet at Augsburg, hopes for any confessional rapprochement between Catholics and Lutherans had largely faded. Although Luther did set out points of agreement between Catholics and Protestants in the first section, highlighting the common commitment to the teachings of the Apostles’ Creed and the Athanasian Creed, the second section was more polemical, criticizing Catholic church practices and the role of the Pope. The confessional picture became even more complex in the same period, as a French-speaking Reformed movement emerged in the border areas between the Swiss lands and the Duchy of Savoy. The leaders of this movement included Pierre Viret, a native of the area, and Guillaume Farel and John Calvin, both French exiles. Two key documents, the Lausanne Articles and the Confession of Geneva, were created in 1536.9 The circumstances behind the two documents were somewhat different: the Lausanne Articles were crafted in preparation for a public debate between Protestant leaders and Catholic clergy in October 1536, and summarized key Reformed beliefs in a very succinct form. The statements included a rejection of images in worship and 200

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 200

12/19/2000 10:02:07 AM

Catechisms and Confessions of Faith

support for marriage for all (hence a denial of clerical celibacy). In contrast, the Confession of Geneva, presented to the Genevan Small Council in November 1536, was part of the process planned by Farel and Calvin to consolidate the Reformation after Geneva had formally accepted the move to Protestantism in May 1536. Indeed, the confession was intended as a summary of orthodox Reformed beliefs and as a way to distinguish between those who had truly accepted Protestant doctrine and those who still held to Catholic views. Its heading made its purpose very clear: “Confession of Faith which all the citizens and inhabitants of Geneva and the subjects of the country must promise to keep and to hold.” In other words, this confession followed the model of the First Confession of Basel, in trying to ensure that all the inhabitants of the city explicitly conformed to the new belief system. However, this plan to verify everyone’s allegiance and commitment to the new faith did not succeed. Very quickly, Calvin and his fellow Reformers ran into obstructions, as the inhabitants of whole streets point-blank refused to come to Saint Pierre, the Genevan Cathedral, and swear their allegiance to the confession after hearing it read aloud by the dizenier or overseer of their district. By November 1537, the Genevan Small Council of magistrates decided “to order that if they will not swear to uphold this Reformation, they must leave the city and go dwell elsewhere, where they can live as they please.”10 This refusal among some Genevan inhabitants to accept the Confession highlighted the divide between Reformation leaders, who wanted to ensure uniformity of belief and commitment to the new faith, and ordinary people, who often did not see the need to swear their formal agreement or did not have a firm grasp on the doctrines or objected to being compelled to testify in public about their doctrinal views. In spite of the challenges in getting support from individual members of specific communities to uphold a given confession, the movement to produce such documents continued apace. By 1560, the Scottish parliament requested and obtained a document from the Reformer John Knox and his colleagues, outlining the key beliefs of the Scottish Calvinist Church.11 The Scots Confession had to tread particularly carefully around the issue of political authority and the obedience due to it, since both the Regent, Mary of Guise and the incoming queen, Mary Queen of Scots, were Catholic, in a country that had otherwise adopted Calvinism. Thus Article 14 of the Scots Confession contained an explicit reference to the obligation to “repress tyranny.” In a move that made a common Calvinist practice a confessional issue, the Scots also included church discipline as one of the marks of the church, alongside the two that Calvin had highlighted in the 1536 Confession of Geneva, namely Scriptural preaching and correct administration of the two biblical sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s Supper.12 Further to the south, the English church also faced the need for a confessional document, especially as England experienced rapid confessional 201

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 201

12/19/2000 10:02:07 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

changes under successive Tudor monarchs beginning in the 1540s. If nothing else, a confession would help the English people know which set of beliefs was the officially accepted one following years of turmoil. Previous attempts had been made, such as the Thirteen Articles of 1538 (under Henry VIII) and the Forty-Two Articles of 1552 (under Edward VI). Furthermore, under the reign of Elizabeth, the English church pursued a via media in its theology and worship. Articulating a common set of beliefs in a confessional statement would help clarify the English church’s stance on a range of doctrinal issues. In 1571, the English parliament and the convocation of the English clergy approved the document prepared by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Matthew Parker. Formal subscription to the text, known as the Articles of Religion, or the Thirty-Nine Articles, was mandatory for candidates entering the ministry beginning in 1571, and for those enrolling at Oxford University beginning in 1581.13 Like the Scots Confession, the Thirty-Nine Articles were as much a political statement as a religious document, since parliaments in the respective countries put the weight of their authority behind these texts. While the Scots and the English were establishing confessions of faith to clarify and establish their doctrinal positions, the ongoing tensions between different confessional groups on the European continent meant that new confessions continued to be written in the 1560s. For instance, Heinrich Bullinger, the successor of Huldrych Zwingli at the head of the Zurich church, was asked in 1563 by Elector Frederick III of the Palatinate to prepare a confessional statement of Reformed beliefs, to help the Elector defend his allegiance to the Reformed faith in the context of increasing pressure from Lutherans in the Holy Roman Empire. The result of this request was the Second Helvetic Confession, produced in 1566, and officially adopted by almost all Swiss Reformed communities as well as Geneva.14 As was the case in previous Reformed confessions, the Second Helvetic Confession rejected Anabaptist, Catholic, and Lutheran views in turn, whether on the sacraments, on the role of the church and its clergy, or on relations with civil authorities. The confession was approved by other Reformed churches across Europe, including in the Palatinate, Scotland, Hungary, Poland, and France, making it one of the most successful confessional documents in terms of the number of churches that adopted it.15 Up until this point, therefore, confessions of faith in the Reformation era were used to establish the parameters of acceptable belief for one particular group, distinguishing its beliefs from those of rival faith communities in the context of a debate or meeting to adjudicate between different doctrinal views, or to ensure that all the inhabitants of a given community explicitly held to the officially accepted faith. In the first instance, the confessions were polemical in intent, and in the second, they sought to standardize and enforce correct belief. In both cases, one of the key elements of the process was to obtain political 202

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 202

12/19/2000 10:02:08 AM

Catechisms and Confessions of Faith

support from city magistrates or princes or parliaments, whose allegiance to a given confession gave it weight. Thus, when the Tetrapolitan confession failed to gain wider political support, it diminished in importance, even though its doctrinal content was similar to that of other documents that were officially adopted by a greater number of civil powers, such as the First Helvetic Confession. While political and religious leaders may well have favored these documents, it is hard to find much popular support for these texts. However, a third category of confessions highlights a somewhat different rationale: these were documents created by minority groups, who wanted to articulate their beliefs in the face of pressure from political and religious leaders who held to other views. These confessions are in a different category because they did not obtain political support, at least not at the time when they were written and first presented. For instance, in 1527, a number of leaders of the various Anabaptist movements in the Swiss and south German lands gathered together in the small town of Schleitheim, where they established a document that set down key Anabaptist beliefs.16 The text presents the Anabaptist understanding of baptism, the ban or excommunication, church leadership, and relations with civil authorities, including the rejection of oaths and separation from all aspects of secular power or rule. The ongoing persecution experienced by the Anabaptists, and their lack of political protection meant that the first versions of the Schleitheim confession circulated in manuscript form. Michael Sattler, generally accepted as the main author of the Schleitheim Confession, did not long survive the creation of the document, since he was executed later the same year.17 Another confession prepared by a minority group facing considerable opposition was the Gallican or French Confession, first adopted by the Reformed churches of France gathered at their inaugural synod in Paris in 1559. This document was intended to articulate Reformed beliefs in order to preserve doctrinal unity among the growing number of French Protestants, but also to present the teachings of the French Reformed church to the king, to refute accusations of heresy made against them by the Catholic majority in France. There were in fact two versions of the Confession at first, one prepared by the Synod in Paris, and one coming from Geneva. The Synod delegates ended up adopting a composite version, which was then amended in subsequent synods until its official form was set at the Synod of La Rochelle in 1571.18 The confession made distinctions between accepted Protestant doctrine and both Catholic and Anabaptist errors, and specifically condemned Michael Servetus’ anti-Trinitarian views. The Gallican Confession played a powerful role in setting the boundaries of acceptable beliefs within a community that remained largely voluntary. Except for certain cities and territories in the south of France, such as the kingdom of Navarre or the city of Montauban, French Protestants could not rely on consistent support and protection from 203

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 203

12/19/2000 10:02:08 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

civil authorities. Hence their confession only applied to those who were willing to accept it and the Reformed church’s authority. The Gallican Confession was particularly important as a doctrinal statement that delineated the parameters of the church’s teaching, since all pastors, elders, and deacons had to subscribe to it.19 Another confession prepared in the same time period was heavily influenced by the French document, namely the Belgic Confession, written by the Calvinist Guido or Guy de Brès in the southern provinces of the Netherlands in 1561.20 In many ways, the content and structure of the Belgic Confession echo the earlier French confession. Although the Belgic Confession was accepted by Calvinist church synods in the Netherlands beginning in 1566, its original context was one of persecution by the Catholic Church and the government of Philip II. Thus the confession called for toleration for Calvinist beliefs, but at the same time, worked hard to distinguish its views from those of the Anabaptists, especially on baptism and on the church’s relation to civil authorities. Anabaptists were equally, if not more persecuted than other Protestants in the Netherlands at the time, and Calvinists were aware of the importance of drawing distinctions between “radical” beliefs and their own, especially when attempting to gain some measure of toleration. Interestingly, because the Belgic Confession became one of the normative confessional statements for Dutch Calvinists, and because Calvinism did manage to gain official recognition as the State Church in the northern provinces of the Netherlands beginning in the 1570s, the text of the Belgic Confession went through some significant changes. By 1619, when it was adopted as an official confessional statement by the Synod of Dordt, its text had been altered to reflect the changed status of the Calvinist church vis-à-vis civil authorities (article 36) and the importance given to the doctrine of election (article 16) in the context of the contemporary conflict over predestination.21 The fact that the text of the Belgic Confession changed over time is significant. Indeed, other documents, such as the Second Helvetic Confession, also exist in several different versions, depending on whether they were based on the original text or on later ones that Bullinger revised. There are also some notable differences between the Latin and German editions of the text that he prepared. These variant editions make the task of analyzing the documents and their significance more challenging, but they do point to the fact that confessions were not static texts. Instead, they reflected the living experience of a faith community. For instance, the Gallican Confession was read aloud at each annual meeting of the French National Synod, and delegates could propose changes or amendments at that time. Thus even when their intent was primarily to define their beliefs, or reject views perceived as unorthodox, confessions were a work in progress rather than text set in stone. Yet in their role as statements of belief, the confessions, like the catechisms to which we will now 204

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 204

12/19/2000 10:02:08 AM

Catechisms and Confessions of Faith

turn, shaped communities’ self-understanding by providing markers that set out a given community’s doctrinal and faith practices.22 In some ways, there are significant parallels between confessions and catechisms. Like confessions, catechisms had a defining function, that is, they specified the beliefs of a given community. However, both the format and the purpose of catechisms were significantly different from those of confessions. While confessions were generally written as a sequence of articles in a declarative form, catechisms in the Reformation era were usually (but not always) in a question and answer form, designed primarily for instructional purposes. While a confession had both an internal (within the faith community) and external (to opponents, the uncommitted, or potential supporters, especially political leaders) audience, catechisms generally addressed an internal audience only. While confessions were generally intended for adults with some theological understanding, catechisms were often (but not always) intended for those who were younger, less-educated, or less-informed, who needed assistance in understanding the basics of the faith. Finally, in most cases the Reformation-era confessions were produced by leading Reformers as official documents. Thus, the number of confessions produced in this period was high, but not impossible to survey. In contrast, Reformation-era catechisms were written and printed in prolific numbers, both by church leaders commissioned to do so and by ordinary pastors or even lay-people who felt they could offer a new and more successful way of inculcating the basics of the faith. Therefore, in order to keep this section manageable and coherent, we will focus more on the approaches and uses of catechisms in the Reformation era rather than attempt an overall survey, which would be so superficial as to be of little use. We will, however, begin by considering the medieval catechetical tradition before turning to a few of the most well-known official Reformation-era catechisms, to examine the various forms of catechisms within the genre and their intent. Catechisms did not suddenly emerge in the Reformation era as a result of specific circumstances in Protestant churches that called for such texts. Indeed, the genre was already popular in the fifteenth-century Catholic world, as church leaders attempted to help the laity learn the basics of their faith so as to have a better grasp of the depth of their sin and their need for repentance, especially in preparation for the sacrament of Confession. One example of an influential pre-Reformation catechism is Jean Gerson’s work, L’ABC des simples gens, or the ABC for simple folk. It focused on teaching the Ten Commandments and the Apostles’ Creed, as well as listing sins for which people needed to repent and presenting texts designed to help believers achieve a good death. This text and others in the same vein indicate that the desire to transmit the fundamentals of the faith in an accessible format that promoted religious knowledge among the laity did not emerge for the first time among Reformation leaders but was part of a longer-standing tradition.23 205

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 205

12/19/2000 10:02:08 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Among the earliest and most widely used Reformation-era catechisms were Luther’s Large Catechism and Small Catechism, first published in April and May of 1529.24 It is worth examining the circumstances surrounding the publication of these works, as they shed light on both the perceived need for such works and Luther’s response. By 1529, Luther and his fellow-pastors had been spreading the teachings of the Reformation for over a decade in printed works and in sermons. Yet according to Luther, the results of the official church visitations he participated in during 1528 and 1529 were disheartening. Although the communities were nominally Christian and the areas were officially Lutheran, he and his fellow visitors apparently found very low levels of religious knowledge, to the point where Luther was not convinced that the people in these communities knew the fundamentals of the faith. To him, as noted in the preface of his catechisms, these essential elements included memorization and understanding of the Apostles’ Creed, the Ten Commandments, and the Lord’s Prayer. Luther’s Large and Small catechisms were thus designed as tools to teach these basics to the young and the ignorant, by means of a question-and-answer format. The Large Catechism, as its name suggests, went into more details on the key texts, and was mainly intended as a guide for pastors, while the Small Catechism contained the actual material students were meant to memorize and learn. Among other recommendations in his prefaces, Luther suggested that those teaching the catechism choose one form of words for the key texts and questions, and keep to that form: wording changes would only confuse those trying to learn the material. This insistence on the importance of consistency in teaching the text can be found time and again in catechetical directives for pastors and teachers. Luther also felt that all those living in a given area should learn their catechism: if they refused, they were to be barred from Communion and could not act as sponsors for baptisms. Although he stated in the preface to his Small Catechism that “we cannot and should not compel anyone to believe,” the nature of a Reformation movement that had gained state support, as Lutheranism had in principalities and cities in the Holy Roman Empire, meant that all inhabitants were to acquaint themselves with the officially held beliefs. Study of the catechism was one of the principal ways of learning what these beliefs were. Similarly, other confessional groups also placed significant emphasis on developing and using catechisms to teach the young and uninformed about the fundamentals of their faith. In Geneva, John Calvin produced two different catechisms. The first, in 1537, was a discursive and fairly dense text, whose format would have made memorization almost impossible, since it contained no questions and answers, but simply straight text. Like Luther’s Large Catechism, Calvin’s first effort seems to have been more directed toward pastors, who could then mediate the content to their flocks in a more manageable form.25 Toward the end of his period of exile from Geneva, in 1541, one of 206

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 206

12/19/2000 10:02:08 AM

Catechisms and Confessions of Faith

Calvin’s conditions for returning to the city was that the magistrates support his plans for a new catechism and comprehensive catechetical instruction. As a result, Calvin finished a new catechism shortly after his return to Geneva. The work was published in French in 1542, this time in a question and answer format that made it somewhat easier to use in teaching.26 The catechism was available in Latin by 1545 and was rapidly translated into a range of languages, making it accessible to Calvinist communities across Europe. While Calvin’s catechism did attract enduring support from some Reformed communities, especially in France, his text was eventually superseded in many locations by the Heidelberg Catechism, produced in 1563. This document was the work of two German Calvinist theologians, Caspar Olevianus and Zacharias Ursinus, who were commissioned by the Elector Palatine, Frederick III, to prepare a work that summed up the essentials of Reformed belief in a teachable form.27 As noted above, Frederick III had also sent the request for a statement of beliefs to Heinrich Bullinger in Zurich, resulting in the Second Helvetic confession in 1566. Like the Genevan Catechism of 1542, the Heidelberg Catechism was rapidly translated into a range of European languages, and became the most-commonly used formulation of the Reformed faith for instruction in a wide range of Calvinist areas, from Hungary and Poland to Scotland.28 Apart from these and other officially sanctioned catechisms, other catechetical texts were prepared by pastors, teachers, and lay-people, in a variety of formats and with a wide range of audiences in mind. Indeed, the proliferation of catechisms is an indicator both of the enthusiasm of instructors for this genre, but also of the frustration inherent in the process of teaching the catechism. In other words, so many catechisms appeared because writers in turn felt they had truly discovered the best method for teaching the fundamentals of the faith in such a way that the students would retain what they were taught. But given that new catechisms kept on appearing, each superseding the previous one, it seems that no winning strategy emerged. When considering the impact of catechisms in the Reformation era, one major consideration is the instructional context: how were they taught? Who did the teaching? Who was the target audience? Because catechetical instruction was valued by church leaders, the records on the practice of catechetical instruction are quite plentiful, and enable these and other questions surrounding the use of catechisms to be answered. The first key aspect of catechisms is that their primary use was in a vernacular context. Although many catechisms were also available in Latin versions, the first function of these works was to teach the basics of the faith to the people in their own language. Thus, Luther’s Small Catechism was first available in German, Calvin’s catechism in French, and so on. Indeed, the catechisms could serve as the entry points for potential converts into a specific 207

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 207

12/19/2000 10:02:08 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

confessional community. Since the catechisms provided a concise and accessible formulation of the community’s beliefs, these works were among the first to be translated or transmitted into areas where there were indications of interest in the new beliefs. Second, the purpose of these works was to inculcate the memorization and understanding of a few key texts and concepts. In most cases, these included the Ten Commandments, the Apostles’ Creed, and the Lord’s Prayer. Those studying the catechism or attending catechism services (see below) were meant to be able to learn these texts, to recite them from memory, and have a basic understanding of what they meant. Many catechisms also included a section on the sacraments. Indeed, in this regard the catechisms and confessions similarly focused on ensuring that believers understood what their own faith community believed about the sacraments and could make basic distinctions between acceptable and unacceptable beliefs regarding baptism and the Lord’s Supper. Catechisms could also include a selection of prayers for mealtimes, bed-time, and ones to be recited upon rising in the morning. Based on the content of the catechisms themselves, therefore, one might surmise that those who studied these texts were expected to deepen their religious awareness and become more active and more knowledgeable practitioners of their faith. However, one should not confuse the proposed approaches to catechetical instruction as presented in the texts themselves or in their prefaces with the realities of the situation.29 In most instances, catechetical instruction was provided orally, yet the existence of catechisms in book form highlights the fact that both speech and the written word were used in transmitting the required information. Printed catechisms intended for the general public (as opposed to the volumes intended for pastors) tended to be small-format and relatively inexpensive works. In some cases, they were bound with other key texts that helped shape the identity of a given faith community. For instance, Calvin’s 1542 catechism was often bound with the Genevan psalter and the Genevan service book known as the Forme des prieres. Whether bound with other related liturgical works or sold separately, catechisms were meant to be priced at a level making them affordable for many households.30 The presence of catechisms in wills and book inventories highlights the importance of these works in household instruction in the faith. Clearly, in the early years of the Reformation, Luther felt that parents, and especially fathers, had the responsibility as heads of household to inculcate the precepts of Christianity to their children by teaching them the basics of the faith. Relatively simple and straightforward vernacular catechisms could help parents fulfill this mandate. Yet the Reformers in the German lands and elsewhere realized quite rapidly that parental instruction was rather hit-and-miss. Some fathers were taking their responsibilities in this area seriously, while others 208

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 208

12/19/2000 10:02:08 AM

Catechisms and Confessions of Faith

were making little effort or none at all to do so. In an attempt to provide greater access and a more consistent level of instruction, Reformers across Europe increasingly entrusted catechetical instruction to teachers outside the home, including schoolmasters, pastors, or other church office-bearers such as deacons (in some Calvinist areas) or sextons (in Lutheran communities). Having schoolmasters teach the catechism generally ensured a better caliber of instruction, but since not all children went to school, despite the strictures of church leaders and municipal authorities alike, too many youngsters who needed instruction in the basics of the faith failed to receive it. Thus while boys attending the Genevan schola privata studied the 1545 Latin edition of Calvin’s catechism on a regular basis, other boys and girls who did not attend the school did not get the benefit of this instruction. Furthermore, restricting catechetical instruction to the schools would prevent those were beyond school age or who were already working from gaining the necessary knowledge.31 Thus the preferred option in order to have the widest possible audience for catechism instruction was to have the sessions led by pastors or other church leaders and to enfold this training within the pattern of regular worship services. Geneva, for instance, instituted a Sunday afternoon catechism service which was originally intended for all, young and old, who needed more training in the basics of their faith. Already by the late 1540s, however, the catechism service increasingly became the sole preserve of children and servants, while older adults who needed help with learning the basics of the faith were sent for private instruction from a pastor. Only those adults who proved recalcitrant or who deliberately flouted the Consistory’s authority when it came to demonstrating that they knew the fundamentals of their faith could be sent to the catechism service, as a sort of public punishment due to the embarrassment of being made to go with the children to be taught.32 In France, the responsibility for teaching the catechism often devolved to the deacons, a pattern that was not inherited from Geneva, where deacons primarily looked after poor relief. Instead, the French Reformed churches were hearkening back to a pre-Reformation understanding of the role of the deacon as one of the first steps in the process of ordination.33 While having the deacons teach catechism freed the pastors from having to undertake the task, controversies did emerge when certain deacons unilaterally broadened their remit to include public teaching on the faith, something that in the eyes of the national synods, at least, remained the preserve of ordained pastors. Thus even when church leaders took on the task of providing catechetical instruction so that as many of the faithful as possible could benefit, disagreements could emerge over the appropriate parameters of that instruction.34 As for the content of these catechism services, we know that they focused on specific sections of the catechism in turn. Thus, Calvin’s catechism was 209

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 209

12/19/2000 10:02:08 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

divided into fifty-five sections by 1549, so that it could be taught over a little more than a year’s worth of Sundays, while the Heidelberg Catechism was divided into fifty-two sections, fitting nicely in the course of a year. Information on the teaching approach is generally lacking, apart from the testimony provided by Charles Perrot, who was a country pastor outside Geneva between 1564 and 1567, and who left a record of his practices for his successor.35 Perrot’s account suggests that he did much more catechizing than one might expect outside the regular catechism service, especially by getting the members of his congregations (including the adults) together in groups prior to each quarterly communion, to examine their level of understanding of the basics of the faith. Echoing the precepts in prefaces to printed catechisms, Perrot underlined for his successor the importance of not changing the phrasing of the questions from year to year, for fear of confusing the respondents. However, the fact that such rigid consistency in wording was necessary suggests that the members of the congregation did not have much grasp of the content of what they had memorized. In his section on teaching children during the catechism service, Perrot indicated that he was prepared to be much more flexible than the written text of the official Genevan catechism: as in the case of many other pastors, he had evolved his own set of questions and answers at a very basic level to help the children memorize and begin to grasp complex concepts. To the question, “What does the word Baptism mean?” Perrot’s answer was “washing”. In contrast, Calvin’s printed catechism has sixteen fairly complex questions and answers on baptism, over the course of five pages. In his account, Perrot also explained his method to get the children to learn the key texts off by heart: he would take them outside in summer and sit down with them and get them to try to recite the Lord’s Prayer in turn, correcting their pronunciation as they went.36 Clearly, Charles Perrot took his responsibilities in teaching the catechism seriously, and was willing to adapt his tactics in order to help people of all ages learn. Indeed, teaching the catechism in church services, classrooms, or at home was emphasized by Reformation leaders chiefly because of the importance placed on understanding and assenting to what one’s community believed. In an age when the prevailing mindset was communal rather than individualistic, being part of a community meant sharing its faith as much as its civic identity. In Reformed areas, providing evidence of knowledge of the basic teachings of Christianity was one of the important elements in being allowed to partake in the Lord’s Supper, together with evidence of living a godly lifestyle. The Genevan Consistory, for instance, used the key texts featured in the catechism as a measuring stick: those appearing before the Consistory to give evidence of their knowledge of the Reformed faith had to recite the Apostles’ Creed and the Lord’s Prayer off by heart.37 For their part, children who had attended catechism services and wished to partake in the Lord’s Supper for 210

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 210

12/19/2000 10:02:08 AM

Catechisms and Confessions of Faith

the first time had to be examined on their knowledge of the faith by one of the pastors. Beginning in 1553, a set of short questions and answers titled “The Way to Question the Children that one wants to receive at the Supper of Our Lord Jesus Christ” was bound together with the Genevan Catechism.38 These questions and answers were much more brief and less in-depth than the ones in the catechism itself, suggesting that though memorizing the answers to catechism questions was important and valued, children were not required to recite the answers to every single catechism question in order to be admitted to the Lord’s Supper. This overview of the various ways in which catechisms were used in Reformation Europe highlights the range of approaches taken by Reformation leaders to inculcate the fundamentals of the faith to the members of their communities. Although the debate continues among scholars as to whether Reformation teachings did successfully take root among ordinary believers, the sheer number of catechisms produced, together with the investment of resources in catechetical instruction point to the church leadership’s conviction that this training really mattered. Although the results as revealed in visitation records and consistory minutes were undoubtedly disheartening at times, at no time in the Reformation era does one find the pastors giving up on the whole idea of using catechisms at all.39 Indeed, taken together, confessions and catechisms are signs of a persistent determination among Reformation leaders to clarify, define, and transmit what they saw as the core teachings of their faith. Mainstream western Christianity’s generally post-confessional mindset has relegated many of these texts to the backs of books of common order or hymnals under the heading “historical confessions” or “historical documents of the church.” However, for those who penned these texts, debated their phrasing, or patiently taught their content week after week, these documents were crucial. They shaped the community’s religious identity, distinguished its beliefs from those of rival confessions, and, if taught effectively, provided a well-grounded belief system for all members of the community.

Further Reading Primary Sources Busch, Eberhard et al. Reformierte Bekenntnisschriften, vol. 1 (1523–34); vol. 2 (1535–49); vol. 3 (1550–8). Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 2002–7. Hesselink, I. John. Calvin’s First Catechism: A Commentary Featuring Ford Lewis Battles’s Translation of the 1538 Catechism. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1997. Pelikan, Jaroslav and Valerie Hotchkiss. Creeds and Confessions of Faith in the Christian Tradition vol. II: Creeds and Confessions of the Reformation Era. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2003. 211

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 211

12/19/2000 10:02:08 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Secondary Sources Barth, Karl. The Theology of the Reformed Confessions, trans. and annotated by Darrell L. Guder and Judith J. Guder. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2002. Bast, Robert James. Honor Your Fathers: Catechisms and the Emergence of a Patriarchal Ideology in Germany 1400–1600. Leiden: Brill, 1997. Bierma, Lyle D. An Introduction to the Heidelberg Catechism. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2005. Gootjes, Nicolaas. The Belgic Confession: Its History and Sources. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2007. Green, Ian. The Christian’s ABC: Catechisms and Catechizing in England c. 1530–1740. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996. —. “Teaching the Reformation: The Clergy as Preachers, Catechists, Authors and Teachers.” In C. Scott Dixon and Luise Schorn-Schütte (eds), The Protestant Clergy of Early Modern Europe, 156–75. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003. Hazlett, Ian. “The Scots Confession 1560: Context: Complexion and Critique.” Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte, 78 (1987): 287–320. Hendrix, Scott H. Recultivating the Vineyard: The Reformation Agendas of Christianization. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2004. Kingdon, Robert M. “Catechesis in Calvin’s Geneva.” In John Van Engen (ed.), Educating People of Faith: Exploring the History of Jewish and Christian Communities, 294–313. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004. Koop, Karl (ed.). Confessions of Faith in the Anabaptist Tradition 1527–1660. Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 2006. Rohls, Jan. Reformed Confessions: Theology from Zurich to Barmen, trans. John Hoffmeyer. Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1998. Roussel, Bernard. “Le texte et les usages de la Confession de foi des Eglises réformées de France d’après les Actes des Synodes Nationaux (1559–1659).” In MarieMadeleine Fragonard and Michel Perronet (eds), Catéchismes et Confessions de foi: actes du VIIIe colloque Jean Boisset, Montpellier: Université Paul Valery, 1995. Staedtke, Joachim (ed.). Glauben und Bekennen: Vierhundert Jahre Confessio Helvetica Posterior: Beiträge zu ihrer Geschichte und Theologie. Zurich: Zwingli Verlag, 1966. Strauss, Gerald. Luther’s House of Learning: Indoctrination of the Young in the German Reformation. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978.

212

9780567033604_Ch12_Final_txt_print.indd 212

12/19/2000 10:02:09 AM

13

Church Discipline and Order Raymond A. Mentzer

The notion of church discipline—the promotion of virtue and punishment of vice—as a key element for understanding the Reformation is neither new nor unprecedented. Scholars have long discussed the crucial relationship between the reform of doctrine (reformatio doctrinae) and the reform of lifestyle (reformatio vitae). Both were vital aspects of the overall Reformation project to reorganize Christianity in accordance with biblically sanctioned principles. Religious leaders unquestionably wished to inculcate correct belief and encourage proper behavior among all members of the faithful. In this sense, much of the Reformation debate turned on competing visions of the sacred and its place within society. How ought the community to be organized and what role ought the church to play? What were the appropriate religious and moral norms? How might the church best renew people’s faith and comportment? For their part, theologians and historians recognize that the monumental religious transformations of the sixteenth century involved far more than altered sets of theological tenets or the introduction of new modes of prayer and worship. The developments also meant a careful reordering and supervision of the entire community. The principal western Christian traditions—Catholic, Lutheran, Reformed, and Anabaptist—sought to articulate in clear and precise language their particular versions of the ancient religious truths. They simultaneously labored tirelessly to translate these ideas into everyday devotional routines and moral habits. Church discipline embraced everyone— female and male, young and old, rich and poor—in an immense endeavor to restore the Christian church to its pristine splendor and to remodel the society of which it was an essential component. These understandings of the value of discipline and accompanying attempts to institute it have deep roots within the Judeo-Christian tradition. On an elementary level, the Decalogue represented a proto-typical effort to establish a normative code of behavior and compel it for an entire society, in this instance a “chosen people.” Analogous discussions and arrangements took place in the early Christian church and continued throughout the Middle Ages. The medieval church developed an impressive body of ecclesiastical 213

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 213

12/19/2000 10:02:51 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

legislation and created an extensive court system to implement it. These tribunals, which enforced church law or, more accurately, canon law, ranged from archidiaconal courts to episcopal tribunals and ultimately the papal curia. They exercised broad authority over both clergy and laity, seeking to insure the good behavior of priests, monks, and nuns, the regular administration of the sacraments, and the maintenance of church buildings. Perhaps their greatest involvement with lay persons centered on the myriad of thorny issues surrounding marriage and its validity. In related matters, they dealt with illicit sexual behavior, both adultery and fornication. They were competent to hear grave offenses such as heresy as well as relatively minor matters such as the failure of lay persons to attend liturgical services, notably the Mass. These church courts possessed the power to impose a variety of punishments of which the most serious was excommunication, a measure which barred the Christian from the reception of the sacraments—the Eucharist, marriage and Extreme Unction to cite the most obvious—as well as from customary social and economic relationships with others in the community. An individual could not, for example, conduct normal business affairs or “eat and drink familiarly” with an excommunicate. By the sixteenth century, however, a significant number of religious leaders came to believe that the late-medieval church had failed to maintain discipline properly. Both Catholics and Protestants called for moral reform, albeit each in their own way. John Calvin, for instance, repeatedly insisted upon the indispensable requirement for discipline. In his Institutes of the Christian Religion, he observed that the identifying marks of a true church were “the Word of God purely preached and heard, and the sacraments administered according to Christ’s institution.” Discipline, in Calvin’s view, stood directly alongside these identifying features, although it was more a mark of the individual Christian and touched upon the safety of the terrestrial church. He announced his position as early as 1539 in his exchange with the Catholic Cardinal Jacopo Sadoleto. Calvin wrote that “there are three things upon which the safety of the Church is founded, namely, doctrine, discipline, and the sacraments.”1 Others reformers such as Theodore Beza, Calvin’s lieutenant at Geneva, and John Knox, the reformer of Scotland, were even more adamant, deeming discipline an essential mark of the church.2 In addition, both the Scots Confession of 1560 and the Belgic Confession of 1561 insisted upon discipline as a mark of the true church. While the issues surrounding church discipline have elicited considerable debate and discussion among theologians and church historians, these scholars have not been alone in their investigations. Individuals trained in cultural and social history, anthropology, and sociology have also taken a strong interest in the nature and development of church discipline, refashioning and redirecting the conversation toward the concept of social disciplining. 214

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 214

12/19/2000 10:02:51 AM

Church Discipline and Order

Early in the twentieth century, Max Weber’s famous study The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism examined the interplay between religion and the economic, political and social structures of early modern Europe. Weber was especially captivated by the role of ecclesiastical institutions in the development and spread of discipline. Later, on the eve of the Second World War, Norbert Elias extended and expanded the approach as he traced the “civilizing process”—the cultivation of manners and morals—in Western Europe. He accentuated the gradual emergence of bourgeois society as well as the pivotal role of the modern state. The pioneering work of Weber and Elias has, in turn, prompted others to rethink the wider significance of the Reformation. Michel Foucault, for example, has drawn attention to the coercive character of early modern discipline, along with the attending issues of social control and cultural formation. The current interest in ecclesiastical and social discipline and the Reformation finds its immediate roots in a debate among German historians over the relationship between the formation of early modern confessional churches and the emergence of the modern state. Gerhard Oestreich was among the first to express in precise fashion the notion of “social disciplining.” He proposed that the political authorities benefited enormously from the enforcement of ecclesiastical discipline and the construction of confessional identity, which attended the Reformation. Religious developments fostered reverence and obedience, docility and industriousness among the faithful. These were also the very traits which secular authorities sought to inculcate within their subjects.3 Wolfgang Reinhard and Heinz Schilling subsequently amplified the argument for both the Catholic and Protestant Reformations. They stressed a process of confessionalization by which the three magisterial churches within the Holy Roman Empire—Lutheran, Calvinist, and Catholic—worked arduously to enforce confessional conformity and supervise moral conduct. The emerging princely state readily appreciated the value of ecclesiastical and social disciplining for the furtherance of its own goals. Political authorities far preferred men and women who recognized and internalized values such as duty and hard work as opposed to the restive and less socially integrated medieval peasants and artisans. In this confessionalization model, social discipline became a critical ingredient in the process of state-building. Discipline, furthermore, was imposed from above by members of the governing elite, at once religious and secular, whose interests intersected in mutual reinforcement.4 Reaction to these perspectives has been mixed. The relationship of ecclesiastical discipline to state formation has been particularly controversial. Historians have debated the applicability of the confessionalization thesis outside the German context. How well does the notion that the Reformation in either its Protestant or Catholic manifestations contributed significantly to state-building apply to other areas in Western Europe? A consensus is by no means apparent. On the 215

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 215

12/19/2000 10:02:51 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

other hand, scholars agree that a strong disciplinary impulse permeated the magisterial churches as well as Anabaptist groups. Perhaps the most recognizable formulation and application of church discipline occurred within the Reformed tradition and, more especially, those churches inspired by Calvin’s reorganization of the church at Geneva. Discipline for Calvin depended “upon the power of the keys and upon spiritual jurisdiction” by which ecclesiastical authorities set church policy and admitted or excluded individuals from church membership. He was insistent upon the basic need for discipline, arguing that . . . if no society, indeed, no house which has even a small family, can be kept in proper condition without discipline, it is much more necessary in the church, whose condition should be as ordered as possible.5 According to Calvin, the church seeks, through private admonition, public censure and, as a last resort, excommunication to accomplish several things. An immediate goal is to “preserve the order of the Lord’s Supper” by insuring that only those members of the congregation who are deemed worthy by virtue of correct belief and proper behavior be allowed to join in this sacred communal celebration. The Supper, admission to it or exclusion from it, served to establish the moral and social body of the faithful. As such, it gave powerful definition to the activities and influence of the Christian church. In addition, the disciplining and correction of sinners along with the exclusion of the unrepentant protected the good so that they might not be “corrupted by the constant company of the wicked.” Finally, discipline provided a means whereby those sinners who might otherwise remain stubborn and obdurate could “profit from the chastisement of their own evil” and “shame for their baseness.” This awakening allowed them to “begin to repent.”6 The fraternal element was crucial. Calvin maintained that in “disclosing our weaknesses to one another, we help one another with mutual counsel and consolation.” The reformer of Geneva added that “while the duty of mutual admonition and rebuke is entrusted to all Christians, it is especially enjoined upon ministers.”7 Even firm believers benefited from the application of the Law, for it was the “best instrument for them to learn each day the nature of the Lord’s will” and to confirm their understanding of it.8 Calvin ultimately characterized discipline as the sinews of the church— “as the saving doctrine of Christ is the soul of the church, so does discipline serve as its sinews”9—and in his Harmonium Evangelica offered an explicit, Scripturally-based justification for its exercise by the church through an institution known in Reformed circles as the consistory.10 The key biblical text for Calvin as well as other advocates of ecclesiastical discipline is Mt. 18.15–17 in which Jesus instructed his followers: 216

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 216

12/19/2000 10:02:51 AM

Church Discipline and Order

If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone . . . if he does not listen, take one or two others along with you . . . if he refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if he refuses to listen even to the church, let him be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector. Whereas the medieval church interpreted the key words “tell it to the church” to mean tell it to the bishop, Calvin contended that because the Christian church did not exist when Jesus uttered the pivotal words “tell it to the church”, he must have meant some Jewish institution, most likely the Sanhedrin, a tribunal composed of both priests and laymen. The Reformed consistory, also made up of clergy and lay persons, was in turn the appropriate sort of subsequent Christian ecclesiastical body for the implementation of church discipline.11 Every Reformed church had a consistory, though in Scotland it was known as the kirk-session and in the German world as the presbytery. An administrative and semi-judicial body composed of the ordained pastors of the local church and elected laymen serving as elders and deacons, the consistory was the institutional foundation of Reformed efforts to establish and maintain church discipline. Its members assembled on a regular schedule, typically once a week, to confer on matters of ecclesiastical administration, the supervision of social assistance programs, and, most famously, the implementation of morals control. As previously suggested, consistorial enforcement of discipline was crucial for Calvin. It went directly to the necessity of screening the faithful for the Lord’s Supper. Only persons deemed qualified by virtue of their knowledge of the Christian faith and their adherence to the highest standards of Christian behavior could participate in the sacramental meal. The various national Reformed churches typically developed elaborate written documents detailing the structures and procedures for organizing and sustaining church discipline. The 1541 Genevan Ecclesiastical Ordinances, an explicit statement of the constitution of the Christian church, proved an important model. Although the Ordinances were in essence municipal legislation, Calvin exercised a strong hand in their drafting. They open with a precise and concise summary: First, there are four official orders which our Lord instituted for the government of His Church, namely: pastors; secondly, doctors; thirdly, elders . . . and, fourthly, deacons. If then we wish to have the Church well ordered and maintained in its entirety, we must observe this form of government. The Ordinances proceed to explain in detail the duties of each of the four offices or ministries. The pastors were to “proclaim the Word of God . . . administer the sacraments, and . . . exercise fraternal discipline together with the elders.” 217

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 217

12/19/2000 10:02:51 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

The members of the second office—that of doctor or teacher—were to “instruct the faithful in sound doctrine.” In reality, the doctors trained future pastors in educational institutions such as the Academy of Lausanne and, beginning in 1559, that of Geneva. The elders, according to the Ordinances, had the special, if demanding duty to “watch over the life of each person, to admonish in a friendly manner those . . . at fault . . . [and] . . . to administer fraternal discipline”. Fourthly, the deacons cared for the needs of the poor and other members of the congregation who were in distress. The final section of the Ordinances explains the consistory, indicating that the pastors and elders were to gather each Thursday “to see whether there is any disorder in the Church and to consult together concerning remedies.” The text also provides specific guidance regarding those faults over which the consistory had jurisdiction and suggests the appropriate corrective measures. Over time, Reformed churches throughout Europe developed their own national Disciplines. The Scottish Church, for instance, composed its First Book of Discipline along with the Scots Confession, an official statement of faith, in 1560. The Second Book of Discipline followed 18 years later. The First Book was the work of John Knox and five other pastors. Knox had visited Calvin’s Geneva and deeply admired the discipline that he observed there. The book begins with matters of doctrine and, more particularly, the preaching of the Word and the right administration of the sacraments. It also contains a strong condemnation of what Knox and others considered biblically unwarranted practices such as liturgical apparel, vows of celibacy, and the celebration of holy days and church festivals. The First Book next takes up the ministry, treating at length the election and maintenance of pastors. The book discusses provisions for the poor and the education of the youth as well. From there, it moves to the many questions surrounding discipline, establishing procedures for the election of elders and deacons, entrusting disciplinary matters largely to the elders, and effectively setting up the kirk-sessions (the Scots equivalent to the Genevan consistory). The book enumerates transgressions, giving special attention to the regulation of marriage, family, and sexuality. Punishment ranged from private censure to public repentance and, ultimately, excommunication. In the end, the First Book proved a forceful and challenging document, which met with considerable political and social opposition. Accordingly, it went unpublished in the sixteenth century; the first known printed edition appeared in 1621. The Second Book, written under the influence of Andrew Melville, was somewhat more successful. Besides reemphasizing church discipline and strengthening the role of the elders, it sought to advance educational reform and bolster church finances. The Second Book also provided the impetus for the introduction of the presbytery, a regional ecclesiastical council made up of a minister and an elder from each parish. The presbytery roughly corresponded to the colloquy within the continental Reformed systems. 218

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 218

12/19/2000 10:02:51 AM

Church Discipline and Order

The equivalent French “founding document” is the Discipline of the Reformed Churches of France. The delegates to the first national synod, meeting secretly at Paris 1559, expressed both doctrinal and disciplinary concerns. They were naturally anxious to lay out correct belief and hence drafted a comprehensive Confession of Faith. They prepared a basic statement of ecclesiastical polity as well. The so-called Discipline is a lengthy organic document whose many provisions the national synods continually updated, amended, and elaborated. Additions to the Discipline frequently found their origins with local congregations who were unable to resolve particularly thorny questions. These matters slowly made their way through the colloquies and provincial synods, and eventually reached the national level, where their resolution was incorporated into the kingdom-wide Discipline. The original Discipline, adopted by the first national synod at Paris in 1559, contained 40 separate, succinct articles. Subsequent national synods added and revised articles so that by the midseventeenth century the Discipline has grown to a total of 252 articles and was divided into 14 chapters. This ever expanding panoply of regulations and customs governed the Reformed churches of France quite effectively. Every local church had an up-to-date copy and members of the consistory were required to be familiar with its contents. Indeed, elders and deacons usually had to sign the Confession of Faith and the Discipline at the moment of their election or upon renewal of their annual terms of office. They promised to uphold the provisions contained in the two statements. Both, after all, provided the essential direction for their activities. Much like its counterparts at Geneva and elsewhere, the French Discipline opens with a protracted explanation of the four ministries. It defines the offices of pastor, doctor, elder, and deacon, explaining carefully the necessary qualifications, the procedures for selection, and the responsibilities associated with each. The next section describes the institutional structure of the church with individual chapters on the consistory, colloquy, and synods both provincial and national. The Discipline then turns to the liturgy, prescribing the manner for worship, fixing the administration of the two sacraments—baptism and the Lord’s Supper—and clarifying with painstaking detail the regulations surrounding marriage. The final chapter elucidates a variety of moral failings and offered advice to ecclesiastical authorities for dealing with these problems and for punishing offenders. Broadly speaking, the disciplinary process within the French Reformed churches unfolded on many levels and in diverse ways. They adopted a multifaceted approach. Church authorities wished to purify sacred rites, revitalize communal worship, and eliminate vestiges of medieval “superstition and idolatry.” At the same time, they consciously employed religious ritual and liturgy to control behavior. The two focal points of the Reformed liturgy were the sermon and the Lord’s Supper. In France, where Catholics denied 219

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 219

12/19/2000 10:02:51 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Protestants the use of medieval churches, the reformers created wholly new edifices, abandoning the cruciform church in favor of longitudinal and centralized, frequently amphitheatric, assembly halls. The altar and “false service of the Mass” disappeared. The pulpit and communion table, representations of the Word and the Sacrament, now occupied the central position. Around them, the devout gathered to hear the pastor’s sermons and partake in the Lord’s Supper. Around the pulpit, the Calvinists placed benches or pews, either in concentric half circles or in a grid pattern to which we are today generally accustomed. Congregation seating was a genuine innovation. Geneva, to take the obvious example, installed pews in the late-1530s. Although these accommodations varied from simple planks for common folk to expensive chairs purchased at personal expense by the wealthy, they became critical when the pastor’s preaching replaced the mass as the principal feature of the new Reformed liturgy. Regular attendance at sermon service was required and the faithful were made to sit quietly sat and listen attentively as the pastor explained God’s Word as found in Scripture and Scripture alone. People no longer dared to stand, chat among themselves, wander about, or engage in individual prayer as was the case during the late-medieval celebration of the Mass. One Catholic observer likened the arrangement to that of a school with the obvious disciplinary dynamic that learning demands. If the French Reformed churches sought to educate and acculturate the ordinary and generally illiterate members of the congregation through preaching, they also incorporated elements of control into the Lord’s Supper. The celebration of the Supper occurred four times each year: on Easter and Pentecost, in mid-September and during Christmastide. It was the occasion to screen participants and insure a basic knowledge of the Christian truths along with observance of accepted standards of behavior. Persons who failed to conform could be barred from reception and in the most egregious cases excommunicated. The pastor habitually announced the service several weeks in advance in order to give the faithful sufficient time to prepare. The elders prepared a list of persons eligible to participate by virtue of right belief and good conduct and gave each a small entry token, typically cast in lead. Notorious sinners and excommunicates were invited to appear before the consistory and seek forgiveness. It was the appropriate moment for repentance and the restoration of communal harmony. On the day of the Eucharistic service, each person presented her or his entry token to an elder, either at the door or at the communion table. No one could participate without one in this highly controlled celebration of the sacrament. The communion token tangibly reinforced the notion of the Lord’s Supper as the centerpiece of a corporate religious experience to which the bearer was now granted admittance. Given the crucial position of the Lord’s Supper in the spiritual life of the congregation, the entry 220

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 220

12/19/2000 10:02:51 AM

Church Discipline and Order

token—granted only to those who professed their faith correctly and behaved properly—became, by association, a symbol of membership in the body of believers. The tokens announced communal solidarity and promoted the harmony that was integral to the Supper. Catechism also figured prominently in the Reformed effort to remodel people’s religious and moral comportment. It unfolded on two levels. Rudimentary instruction for children seemed obvious. They needed to learn the essential prayers—the Lord’s Prayer and Apostles’ Creed—along with the Ten Commandments and the basics of the sacraments. At the same time, French Reformed churches held mandatory catechism lessons for all adult members of the congregation in the weeks leading up to the celebration of the Eucharist. Attendance was a prerequisite for participation in the service. The assumption was that communicants ought to comprehend the essentials of the faith and be able to recite basic prayers. In most churches, the elders only distributed the requisite entry tokens for the Supper upon completion of catechism. Some pastors found the mechanism sufficiently beneficial that they extended it to marriage. Thus, in certain churches, a young couple had to attend catechism and produce a communion token before the minister would consent to solemnize their union. Altogether, catechism like the liturgy became an effective instrument for inculcating confessional identity and promoting proper Christian behavior. Yet another aspect of this ambitious endeavor to reform the whole of human society focused on assistance to the poor. Perceived biblical injunction to feed the hungry and clothe the naked prompted churches to institute mechanisms for assisting the indigent both to ease the burden of poverty and to discipline them spiritually, economically, and socially. Pastors, elders, and deacons wished as well to inculcate a fundamental sense of moral responsibility among donors. Churches devoted an enormous amount of time, energy, and financial resources toward aiding the destitute. They secured apprenticeships for young men with shoemakers, weavers, and blacksmiths. They placed young women as domestic servants and provided them with modest dowries so that they might marry. Finally, they provided clothing, food and upon occasion cash to widows and orphans, the blind and the lame, impoverished travelers and refugees, and the temporarily unemployed. These activities supported and strengthened an economic and social order which unproductive paupers and nomadic beggars threatened to disjoin. Proper behavior, constructive employment, stable marriages, and secure families were key elements in the orderly and protected maintenance of the community. Finally, ecclesiastical authorities went to great lengths to insure that the faithful understood the religious obligation to help the poor. Churches took up special collections, levied assessments on the wealthier members of the congregation for support of bread distribution, and constantly reminded everyone of the necessity of 221

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 221

12/19/2000 10:02:51 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

remembering the less fortunate in their last wills and testaments. In the end, poor relief programs not only materially assisted the impoverished but delivered a strong measure of religious direction to both recipients and donors. Reformed church discipline undoubtedly assumed its most vibrant coloration in the realm of morals control. An unmistakable resolve and severity, frequently characterized as puritanical, permeated the system. The pastors and elders, seated in the weekly meetings of the consistory, sought to regulate the household, quell disputes, chastise sexual misconduct, outlaw dancing, and suppress “sinful” behavior of every sort. On one level, the consistory acted as a sort of morals court. It summoned suspects, chastised misbehaviour, and encouraged good conduct through a graduated system of shaming techniques. The consistory also functioned as a compulsory counseling service toward the resolution of a wide range of marital conflicts and the mediation of the many quarrels that plagued early modern neighborhoods. The transgressions for which the consistory summoned individuals fall into two broad categories. About a third of all perceived failings were of an ecclesiastical nature: absence from church services and catechism lessons, Sabbath breach, polluting contacts with “papism,” irregularities surrounding marriage, blasphemy, sorcery and magic, and “rebellion” against the consistory. The remaining faults were behavioral: verbal disputes and physical quarrels, abusive and scandalous language, sexual misconduct such as fornication and adultery, dancing, games and other frivolous activities, excesses of food and drink, and participation in charivaris, masquerades, and carnival. One of the most persistent problems, especially in the first decades of the Reformation, was people’s failure to attend worship services. Time and again, the consistory exhorted individuals to go to sermons and prayer services, or it demanded to know why someone had been absent from the Supper or catechism. A more dangerous series of transgressions was the result of contacts with “popery.” Protestants, sometimes out of a sense of social obligation, sometimes as the result of threat of persecution, participated in Catholic baptisms and funerals, or even attended Mass. Yet the major difficulty associated with Catholicism centered on marriages celebrated by a Catholic priest. Given the strong patriarchal notions of the age, a Protestant woman, when marrying a man of the “opposite” religion, frequently felt obliged to do so in the Catholic church. Reformed authorities strongly discouraged mixed marriages, portraying parents who consented to such arrangements as having “given over” their daughters to Satan. Marriage to a Catholic posed a direct danger to the future well-being of the church. There was always a risk that the individual would apostatize and join the spouse’s faith. More important, inter-confessional marital alliances jeopardized the spiritual welfare of the next generation. Would the children born to a mixed marriage be raised in the true faith? 222

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 222

12/19/2000 10:02:52 AM

Church Discipline and Order

A whole series of problems was connected to offenses committed in conjunction with marriage. Men and women tried now and again to go back on their betrothal promises or, after the betrothal, they delayed far too long the solemnization of the marriage by the pastor. In other instances, an engaged couple began living together prior to the actual marriage or they neglected to secure the legal consent of their parents for the marriage. In these and related cases, the pastors and elders confidently sorted things out and put the offenders back on the right track. The reformers also attempted to root out certain aspects of popular culture that touched on the supernatural. They censured midwives who continued the late-medieval practice of administering emergency baptism to frail newborns, severely reprimanded individuals who consulted local witches to obtain some remedy for a sick child, and invariably scolded those who sought out gypsy fortunetellers to resolve anxieties over the future. Finally, persons who “rebelled” by failing to heed the consistory’s summons or by refusing to accept its penitential direction risked even worse chastisement. Beyond these matters of ecclesiastical polity and church discipline, the consistory sought to suppress a variety of misdeeds that might be properly understood as moral or behavioral faults. Among these shortcomings, physical quarrels and verbal confrontations were the most prominent. People’s seemingly endless clashes in both word and deed had to cease. Calling someone a thief or a whore, throwing stones or punches were unacceptable forms of behavior. Church authorities sincerely believed that discord among members of the community was a grave difficulty. They sought to mediate these conflicts and promote harmony. The faithful must be made to understand the fundamental value of living together peacefully as good Christian brothers and sisters. Another sort of failing that Reformed pastors and elders earnestly wished to eradicate was unlicensed sexuality. Fornication and adultery were condemned in the strongest possible ways. The surest, most obvious evidence of illicit sexual conduct was the unmarried, yet pregnant woman. She and her partner were invariably made to appear before the entire congregation on Sunday and beg the forgiveness of God and the church. Public sin, in this view, required public atonement. Still, the Calvinist impulse to quash sins of the flesh—the essence of Puritanism in popular lore—can easily be exaggerated. The consistory regularly punished far more men and women for dancing than for fornication. Dancing was deemed inappropriate not simply because of the indecent ditties and lascivious body movements associated with it. The consistory also opposed dancing because of its close connection with unacceptable medieval religious practices. People danced at weddings, votive festivals celebrating local saints, and at the raucous carnival that ushered in the Lenten season. In the eyes of Reformed authorities, these activities had little to do with authentic 223

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 223

12/19/2000 10:02:52 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Christian piety and were more often than not deemed polluting. Another category of lighthearted misbehavior included games and related idle pastimes. Even physical competitions such as deck tennis and quoits were thought to be no more than profligate. People engaged in these distractions and amusements to the detriment of their work and sometimes on Sunday when they ought to have been at worship. Worst still were cards, dice, and other games of chance. Not only were they the occasion for betting—both for money and rounds of drinks—but frequently they took place in the unsavory surroundings of taverns and cabarets. Pastors and elders toiled to make all understand the need to work hard, study diligently, and pray constantly, not play idle games. Finally, pastors and elders roundly condemned those who participated in the popular charivari that mocked an unusual marriage or the raucous celebrations associated with the traditional Mardi gras. These activities had little in common with approved Christian comportment. Even matters of personal grooming could become an occasion for censure. The consistory scolded young men for wearing their hair in dreadlocks and, far more frequently, reprimanded women for elaborate makeup, ornate hairdos, and plunging necklines. The Reformed consistory had at its disposal a variety of measures for correcting the sinner and encouraging a change of behavior. They included private fraternal admonition, severe tongue-lashings and censure, discreet rituals of reparation in the closed chambers of the consistory, embarrassing admissions of sin in front of the entire congregation, temporary suspension from the Lord’s Supper, and complete public excommunication. That much of the disciplinary endeavor focused on the Lord’s Supper—admission to it and exclusion from it—is not surprising. Only the worthy could participate. The celebration of the Eucharist was the opportunity for the entire congregation to come together in peace and reconciliation, not simply with God, but with one another. Repentant sinners were reunited with the faithful in the reception of the sacrament, while egregious offenders and the obdurate were barred, often pointedly and openly. Modern observers are typically struck by the punitive and invasive nature of church discipline. Yet it also possessed an affirming and positive dynamic. The sanctions imposed by the consistory, ranging from simple scolding and reprimand to full excommunication, aimed ultimately at a “reformation” of the sinner, seeking her or his contrition and reconciliation to God and His community. Christian discipline and fraternal correction were beyond any doubt a collective responsibility and communal enterprise—and were thought to serve the best interests of everyone. The Lutheran churches were no less committed than the Calvinist to implementing and maintaining church discipline. Their approach was essentially twofold. An early widespread undertaking among Lutherans was the visitation, which along with regular preaching and catechism instruction, aimed at improving the religious knowledge, devotional habits, and moral character 224

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 224

12/19/2000 10:02:52 AM

Church Discipline and Order

of the faithful. The first visitation was conducted in Electoral Saxony during the late-1520s. Subsequently, some German Lutheran states also established consistories, although they did not possess the power and position of the consistories in Reformed lands. Permeating both initiatives was the notion that proper discipline, especially at the parish level, was essential. According to the 1580 church ordinance of Mansfeld, “. . . next to pure doctrine should stand Christian discipline, and all properly installed, true pastors should be devoted to it to the same degree that they are devoted to the teaching itself.”12 In addition to articulating succinctly the fundamental importance of discipline—it stands next to doctrine—the ordinance points up the Lutheran emphasis on the close connection between discipline and education. The visitation was part of an encompassing attempt to establish discipline among the clergy and laity. Luther and his followers viewed it as critical to the task of organizing the church. Already in the mid-1520s, Philip Melanchthon, Luther’s friend and colleague at the University of Wittenberg and his eventual lieutenant in the reforming effort, was appointed one of 28 commissioners to visit the Protestant imperial states and regulate the constitution of the churches. By 1528, he drafted and published the Instructions of the Visitors to the Pastors in the Electorate of Saxony, a set of directives for the commissioners. In addition to a statement of evangelical doctrine, it established church order, instituted the office of superintendant, and allowed for enforcement of discipline through excommunication. It also contained an outline of education for the elementary grades, which was enacted into law in Saxony resulting in the establishment of the first Protestant school system. Indeed, the Lutheran approach to church discipline relied heavily upon the education of the faithful. The visitors had two goals in mind. To begin, they wanted to assess the state of the local churches. Did they have adequate financial resources? Were they properly staffed? What were the physical conditions of the various buildings? A second objective went to the religious knowledge and personal behavior of the clergy as well as the congregants. Luther, for instance, complained that the common people had “no knowledge whatever of Christian teaching” and even many pastors were “incompetent and unfit for teaching” the truths of Christianity.13 The actual visitations were a joint church-state undertaking. Indeed, the enterprise depended heavily upon the support of the princely state and the commissions were typically a mixture of clergy and laity. The visitors had a set of instructions outlining their charge and a lengthy list of prepared questions. Their arrival in the town or village would have been announced in advance and once there, the visitors interviewed a substantial number of persons: pastor and schoolmaster, mayor and municipal councilors as well as ordinary men, women, and children across a spectrum of age and status. They wished to ascertain whether the pastor was performing his 225

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 225

12/19/2000 10:02:52 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

duties properly, whether the schoolmaster offered appropriate instruction for the youth, mostly boys but sometimes girls as well, and whether people knew the rudiments of the faith and observed correct Christian comportment. The visitors were attentive to a variety of sins including sexual misconduct, magic, blasphemy, failure to attend church, usury, slander, and even the failure on the part of disrespectful sons and daughters to honor their parents properly. An accompanying scribe carefully recorded the responses, which were eventually assembled in a formal document—the protocol of the visitation. The protocols also enumerated whatever difficulties and deficiencies the visitation had uncovered. In short, the visitation was a comprehensive, probing, and welldocumented assessment of local parishes with an eye to existing problems and presumably their resolution. Church discipline in the Lutheran world also fell under the purview of consistories. Pastors generally admonished wrongdoers to mend their errant ways and might even enlist other clerics and laymen to add force to the reprimand. If this approach produced little result, the next step was the minor ban, imposed typically for public sins such as blasphemy, adultery, and resort to magic. The church excluded the banned person from communion, but he or she otherwise remained an active member of the community. If these measures failed, the recalcitrant offender could be sent to the consistory where he risked full excommunication. Established by princely ordinance, the Lutheran consistories possessed a number of important responsibilities. Robert Christman in a concise survey of the consistory in the central German territory of Mansfeld between 1584 and 1588 has outlined the broad contours of its charge. The ecclesiastical and political authorities who sat on the Mansfeld consistory met once a month. They administered church finances and controlled church property. The consistory also sorted out disputes involving church officials from pastors down to the humblest persons charged with sweeping the aisles or ringing the bells. Not surprisingly, the consistory of Mansfeld summoned, examined, and passed judgment on public sinners—men and women whose failings were not wholly dissimilar to those that preoccupied Calvinist pastors and elders. People blasphemed, turned to magic and other closely related time-honored “superstitious” practices, neglected to participate in the celebration of the Eucharist, touted religious views which were contrary official doctrine, involved themselves in illicit sexual activities, and engaged in endless disputes and quarrels over money and property. These sinners needed to recognize their fault, ask forgiveness, and mend their ways. In addition, the consistory at Mansfeld and elsewhere acted as a marriage court toward the settlement of a wide variety of disagreements involving marriage and the family. Individuals, typically men, reneged on promises to marry or, if married, abused their wives, squandered dowries, and mistreated in-laws. All told, the pastors and lay members of the Lutheran consistory expended 226

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 226

12/19/2000 10:02:52 AM

Church Discipline and Order

enormous energy in the attempt to reduce tension and resolve conflict within marriage.14 Various Swiss city-states possessed so-called marriage courts, which drew heavily upon medieval precedents and most notably the courts of canon law which had been controlled by the bishops. In 1525, the Zurich municipal council at the urging of Huldrych Zwingli, the city’s religious reformer, instituted a marriage court. Composed of two pastors and four city council members, the tribunal’s competence quickly expanded beyond marriage questions to include a wide range of matters touching on lay morality and behavior. Still, Zwingli, unlike Calvin, left the enforcement of church discipline to the secular authorities. The marriage court, for example, could only make recommendations; their implementation was left to the city council. Heinrich Bullinger, Zwingli’s successor at Zurich, furthered these disciplinary efforts when in 1532 he drew up a set of regulations specifically governing preachers. This ecclesiastical arrangement for clerical discipline provided for a synod whose membership included all the ministers of the city and canton of Zurich. There were, in addition, two lay delegates from every parish, four members of the Zurich small and four members from the great council. This mixed body represented church and state, the clergy and the laity. The synod met biannually, in spring and fall, in the city hall of Zurich. It had the power to oversee the doctrinal views and morals of the clergy, and to enact legislation governing the internal affairs of the church. The synod exercised, in particular, strict discipline over the morals of the clergy, censuring intemperance, extravagance in dress, and neglect of church ordinances. All of these developments, especially Zwingli’s early innovations, deeply influenced the creation of analogous institutions in other parts of the Swiss Confederation and among some south German states. The Anabaptists, who insisted that church be “without spot or wrinkle” (Eph. 5.27), offered perhaps the strictest expression of discipline. They thought of themselves as a community of true believers joined by voluntary adult baptism. Vigorous discipline, in turn, was the key to the restoration of the Christian church. It became the means for maintaining the purity of the group. Only those persons who adhered to and maintained what were often very high standards of belief and behavior could retain membership. Backsliders were generally banned and sometimes shunned. Firmly applied discipline was essential for realizing the necessary improvement in moral behavior. On the other hand, the Anabaptists never enjoyed state support in the furtherance of church discipline and the mechanisms for its implementation varied widely. Groups such as the Hutterites established formal institutions for maintaining discipline, while others had none. Thus, an insistence that the church depended upon discipline for its very existence did not always translate into the creation of regulatory bodies. 227

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 227

12/19/2000 10:02:52 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

The Catholic Church also pursued forceful disciplinary initiatives. They included extensive diocesan visitations and a reinvigoration of the sacrament of penance. Both flowed from the bishops’ lengthy discussions at the Council of Trent (1545–63). Although visitations conducted under episcopal authority began long before the Reformation era, they became more methodical and organized as the Catholic Church sought to assess its condition and assure the proper conduct of its pastoral mission. The prelates assembled at Trent underscored a bishop’s obligation to visit his diocese regularly, either in person or by proxy. The purpose was straightforward. The bishop was to promote “sound and orthodox doctrine”, insure the maintenance of “good morals”, and “animate the people, by exhortations and admonitions, to religion, peacefulness, and innocence.” Catholic religious leaders simultaneously stressed the elementary importance of sacramental confession. The church encouraged frequent confession and required all congregants to confess their sins to a priest and receive communion once a year during the Easter season. In addition, ecclesiastical authorities, especially after the Council of Trent, attempted to monitor confession closely. They sought to develop bureaucratic mechanisms for ascertaining whether men and women had fulfilled the Easter obligation. Efforts to identify and punish the lax appear to have been fairly widespread in the post-Tridentine Catholic Church. Confession in this reenergized Catholic milieu shared many of the characteristics of the disciplinary endeavor within other traditions. The individual had to admit to her or his sin, and to express sincere remorse. In addition, various rituals facilitated penitence, reconciliation, and reintegration. A final aspect of discipline within the Catholic Church centers on the Inquisition. The inquisitors, whether in Italy, Portugal, or Spain, were famous, if not infamous, for their strict enforcement of orthodox belief and ceaseless campaign to eradicate witchcraft. Less well known are their efforts in the behavioral realm. The Holy Office of the Inquisition at Siena, for example, investigated people for disrespect of the clergy, blasphemous utterances, use of magic, and even for eating meat on fast days. Scholars have suggested that as much as 60 percent of the cases heard by the Spanish Inquisition concerned moral delinquency. Among the most prominent transgressions were bigamy, blasphemy, superstition, and solicitation in the confessional—the very sorts of faults that would have deeply troubled a Reformed elder or Lutheran visitor. In the end, the ideas surrounding church discipline, the institutions for its implementation, and the procedures for its realization varied considerably across Reformation Europe. Still, the churches generally agreed upon the necessity of discipline and the early modern state willingly supported their efforts. Ecclesiastical and political authorities found common interest in supervising and acculturating what they regarded as a wholly unruly populace. It 228

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 228

12/19/2000 10:02:52 AM

Church Discipline and Order

was this “civilizing process” that so fascinated Norbert Elias. On the other hand, the endeavor was not always a top-down affair. Ordinary congregants molded and shaped the process, and often availed themselves of its benefits. Women, in particular, increasingly saw the church as their protector against unscrupulous employers and abusive husbands. They could appeal directly to the consistory or marriage court for redress of their grievances. For the churches, discipline and order went, of course, directly to the task of “reforming” the faithful and reestablishing the purity of the church that Christ had established on this earth. Instilling correct religious beliefs and proper moral standards was paramount within all Christian traditions. Each church may have had a different approach, yet they agreed on the necessity of discipline. They viewed it as crucial for encouraging and assisting the individual believer in the great struggle for salvation. Discipline also reinforced the bonds that united the body of the faithful and, if necessary, could be invoked to exclude those who threatened disruption. Finally, discipline, along with the Word and the Sacraments, held the power to transform each and every aspect of society in conformity with God’s eternal promise. Indeed, without discipline, there could be no church.

Bibliography Primary Sources Aymon, J. Tous les synodes des Églises réformées de France, 2 vols. The Hague: Charles Delo, 1710. Calvin, John. “Ecclesiastical Ordinances.” In P. E. Hughes (ed. and trans.), The Register of the Company of Pastors of Geneva in the Time of Calvin, 35–49. Grand Rapids, MI: W. B. Eerdmans, 1966. Cameron, J. K. (ed.). The First Book of Discipline. Edinburgh: Saint Andrew Press, 1972. Fleming, D. H. (ed.). Register of the Ministers, Elders and Deacons of the Christian Congregation of St. Andrews, 1559–1600, 2 vols. Edinburgh: Scottish History Society, 1889–90. Francillon, F. (ed.). Livre des délibérations de l’Eglise réformée de l’Albenc (1606–1682). Edition du manuscrit conservé à la Bibliothèque d’Etude et d’Information Fonds Dauphinois. Grenoble Cote R 9723. Paris: Honoré Champion, 1998. Huisseau I. d’. La Discipline des Eglises réformées de France ou l’ordre par lequel elles sont conduites et gouvernées. Geneva and Saumur: R. Péant and J. Lesnier, 1666. Kirk, J. The Second Book of Discipline. Edinburgh: Saint Andrew Press, 1980. Lambert, T. A. and I. M. Watt (eds). Registers of the Consistory of Geneva in the Time of Calvin vol. 1, 1542–1544, dir. R. M. Kingdon; trans. M. W. McDonald. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans, 2000. —, Registres du consistoire de Genève au temps de Calvin, dir. R. M. Kingdon; 5 vols. to date; Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1996–2007. Méjan, F. (ed.). Discipline de l’Église réformée de France annotée et précédée d’une introduction historique. Paris: Editions “Je Sers,” 1947. 229

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 229

12/19/2000 10:02:52 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology “Ordonnances ecclésiastiques.” In R. M. Kingdon and J.-F. Bergier (eds) Registres de la Compagnie des Pasteurs de Genève, vol. 1, 1546–1553, 1–13. Geneva: Droz, 1964. Quick, J. Synodicon in Gallia Reformata, or the Acts, Decisions, Decrees, and Canons of those Famous National Councils of the Reformed Churches in France, 2 vols. London: T. Parkhurst and J. Robinson, 1692. Sehling, E. (ed.). Die Evangelischen Kirchenordnungen des XVI. Jahrhunderts, 15 vols. Leipzig: O. R. Reisland, 1902–77.

Secondary Sources Baker, J. W. “Christian Discipline and the Early Reformed Tradition: Bullinger and Calvin.” In R. V. Schnucker (ed.), Calviniana: Ideas and Influence of John Calvin, 107–19. Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 1988. Benedict, P. Christ’s Churches Purely Reformed: A Social History of Calvinism. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2002. Burnett, A. N. The Yoke of Christ: Martin Bucer and Christian Discipline. Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 1994. Christman, R. “The Pulpit and the Pew: Shaping Popular Piety in the Late Reformation.” In R. Kolb (ed.), Lutheran Ecclesiastical Culture, 1550–1675, 259– 303. Leiden: Brill, 2008. Conner, P. Huguenot Heartland: Montauban and Southern French Calvinism during the Wars of Religion. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2002. Davis, K. R. “No Discipline, No Church: An Anabaptist Contribution to the Reformed Tradition.” Sixteenth Century Journal, 13 (1982): 43–58. Elias, N. The Civilizing Process: The History of Manners and State Formation and Civilization, trans. E. Jephcott. Oxford: Blackwell, 1994. Estèbe, J. and B. Vogler. “La genèse d’une société protestante: étude comparée de quelques registres consistoriaux languedociens et palatins vers 1600.” Annales: économies, sociétés, civilisations, 31 (1976): 352–88. Estes, J. Godly Magistrates and Church Order: Johannes Brenz and the Establishment of the Lutheran Territorial Church in Germany 1524–1559. Toronto: Center for Reformation and Renaissance Studies, 2001. Foucault, M. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, trans. A. Sheridan. New York: Pantheon, 1977. Garrisson, J. Protestants du Midi, 1559–1598. Toulouse: Privat, 1980. Gordon, B. Clerical Discipline and the Rural Reformation: The Synod in Zürich, 1532– 1580. Bern: Peter Lang, 1992. Gorski, P. S. The Disciplinary Revolution: Calvinism and the Rise of the State in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003. Graham, M. F. The Uses of Reform: “Godly Discipline” and Popular Behavior in Scotland and Beyond, 1560–1610. Leiden: Brill, 1996. Harrington, J. F. and H. W. Smith. “Confessionalization, Community, and State Building in Germany, 1555-1870.” Journal of Modern History, 69 (1997): 77–101. Hsia, R. P. Social Discipline in the Reformation: Central Europe, 1550–1750. London and New York: Routledge, 1989. Ingram, M. Church Courts, Sex and Marriage in England, 1570–1640. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987.

230

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 230

12/19/2000 10:02:52 AM

Church Discipline and Order Kingdon, R. M. “The Control of Morals in Calvin’s Geneva.” In L. P. Buck and J. W. Zophy (eds), The Social History of the Reformation, 3–16. Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1972. —. “The Genevan Consistory in the Time of Calvin.” In A. Pettegree, A. Duke and G. Lewis (eds), Calvinism in Europe, 1540–1620, 21–34. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. —. Adultery and Divorce in Calvin’s Geneva. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1995. Köhler, W. Zürcher Ehegericht und Genfer Konsistorium, 2 vols. Leipzig: M. Heinsius Nachfolger, 1932–42. Kooi, C. “Pharisees and Hypocrites: A Public Debate over Church Discipline in Leiden, 1589.” Archive for Reformation History, 88 (1997): 258–78. Kuhr, O. “Calvin and Basel: The Significance of Oecolampadius and the Basel Discipline Ordinance for the Institution of Ecclesiastical Discipline in Geneva.” Scottish Bulletin of Evangelical Theology, 16 (1998): 29–30. Lambert, T. A. “Preaching, Praying and Policing the Reformation in SixteenthCentury Geneva.” (Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Wisconsin, 1998). Lenman, B. “The Limits of Godly Discipline in the Early Modern Period with Particular Reference to England and Scotland.” In K. von Greyerz (ed.), Religion and Society in Early Modern Europe, 1500–1800, 124–45. London: Allen and Unwin, 1984. Mentzer, R. A. “Disciplina nervus ecclesiae: The Calvinist Reform of Morals at Nîmes.” Sixteenth Century Journal, 18 (1987): 89–115. —. “Notions of Sin and Penitence within the French Reformed Community.” In K. J. Lualdi and A. T. Thayer (eds), Penitence in the Age of Reformations, 84–100. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000. —. La construction de l’identité réformée aux 16e et 17e siècles: le rôle des consistoires. Paris: Champion, 2006. Mentzer, R. A. (ed.). Sin and the Calvinists: Morals Control and the Consistory in the Reformed Tradition. Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 1994. Monter, E. W. “The Consistory of Geneva, 1559–1569.” Bibliothèque d’Humanisme et Renaissance, 38 (1976): 467–84. Parker, C. H. “Two Generations of Discipline: Moral Reform in Delft before and after the Synod of Dort.” Archive for Reformation History, 92 (2001): 215–31. Pollmann, J. “Off the Record: Problems in the Quantification of Calvinist Church Discipline.” Sixteenth Century Journal, 33 (2002): 423–38. Roodenburg, H. Onder Censuur. De kerkelijke tucht in de gereformeerde gemeente van Amsterdam, 1578–1700. Hilversum: Verloren, 1990. Schilling, H. “ ‘History of Crime’ or ‘History of Sin’? Some Reflections on the Social History of Early Modern Church Discipline.” In E. I. Kouri and T. Scott (eds), Politics and Society in Reformation Europe. Essays for Sir Geoffrey Elton on His SixtyFifth Birthday, 289–310. New York: St Martin’s Press, 1987. —. Civic Calvinism in Northwestern Germany and the Netherlands: Sixteenth to Nineteenth Centuries. Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 1991. —. Religion, Political Culture and the Emergence of Early Modern Society: Essays in German and Dutch History. Leiden: Brill, 1992.

231

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 231

12/19/2000 10:02:52 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology Schmidt, H. R. Dorf und Religion: reformierte Sittenzucht in Berner Landgemeinden der Frühen Neuzeit. Stuttgart, Jena and New York: Gustave Fischer, 1995. Strauss, G. Luther’s House of Learning: Indoctrination of the Young in the German Reformation. Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978. Todd, M. The Culture of Protestantism in Early Modern Scotland. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2002. Valeri, M. “Religion, Discipline and the Economy in Calvin’s Geneva.” Sixteenth Century Journal, 28 (1997): 123–42. Watt, J. R. “Women and the Consistory in Calvin’s Geneva.” Sixteenth Century Journal, 24 (1993): 429–39. Weber, M. The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, trans. T. Parsons. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1958.

232

9780567033604_Ch13_Final_txt_print.indd 232

12/19/2000 10:02:53 AM

14

Eschatology, Apocalypticism, and the Antichrist Robin B. Barnes

The late medieval and early modern reforming impulses in western Christendom were closely linked to fundamental shifts in prevailing European attitudes to time and eternity and the relationship between them. Most clearly evident among these shifts was a greatly heightened preoccupation with the limits of time, and hence with the ultimate fate of both individual souls and the world as a whole. Reformation theology involved a radical redefinition of the boundaries between this temporal world and the eternal kingdom, a redefinition closely associated with new attitudes to death. On a less abstract plane, the religious explosion of the sixteenth century served to accelerate an already waxing late-medieval and Renaissance awareness of time, historical change, and future prospects. Protestantism in particular would focus attention on the movement of universal history toward its end, and would raise basic questions about the meaning of this movement for human beings. “Eschatology” refers to the theological doctrine of the “Last Things”: death, judgment, heaven and hell; it thus concerns the ultimate fate of all created beings and things. The narrower term “apocalypticism,” deriving from the Greek term for “revelation,” denotes a pattern of eschatological beliefs that focuses particularly on the events of the Last Times, the Second Advent, the end of the world, and the Last Judgment. More specifically, the apocalyptic outlook regards universal history as unfolding according to a divine plan that has been at least partially revealed to the faithful. The present world stands in a state of crisis that God will soon resolve; the forces of good will be victorious, and evil will be defeated. A sense of imminent universal transformation is central to this orientation; hence a state of watchful expectancy is among its most basic features. Apocalypticism is “prophetic” in both the main senses of this latter term. First, it looks to warn sinners and to console those who live in righteousness. Second, it offers knowledge about the divine scheme for history, especially about what the future holds. A narrower term is “millenarianism,” best 233

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 233

12/19/2000 4:42:31 PM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

understood as an apocalyptic or quasi-apocalyptic perspective that conceives the coming resolution not in terms of the immediate end of time, but as a divinely effected transformation within history. For the Christian millenarian, the Last Judgment will follow a time of earthly peace and justice. Finally, “chiliasm” is most appropriately reserved for the most literal form of biblical millenarianism, the expectation of a future thousand-year binding of Satan to follow the Second Advent (Revelation 20). Premodern beliefs about the Last Things reflected the deepest assumptions about life and meaning. To analyze the evolving ways in which past individuals and cultures addressed “ultimate” questions is therefore to investigate historical change at a basic level. This essay explores several ways in which Reformation eschatology and apocalypticism were pivotal in the broader transition from medieval to modern. First, by sharpening the lines between the temporal and the eternal, the living and the dead, the teachings of the reformers promoted an intensified awareness of time in all its aspects. In so doing they both heightened and focused spiritual and psychological anxieties in Protestant Europe. Second, by dwelling on urgent questions about ultimate realities, the apocalyptic thought of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries spurred new quests for insight into the workings of nature and history. Finally, although Reformation apocalypticism had no fixed social or political implications, in its varied forms it contributed forcefully to the formation of early modern confessional, cultural, and national identities. In the following discussion we approach these themes in no particular order, but rather as interrelated aspects of the subject.1 *

*

*

The Protestant reformers’ eschatological teachings were for them no less theologically central than their answers to the problem of justification; in fact these two dimensions of their thought were inseparable. The doctrine of salvation by faith alone went hand in hand with a major reconstruction of the boundaries between this temporal world and the eternal kingdom. Together, these complementary soteriological and eschatological shifts brought the collapse of the whole elaborate late-medieval machinery of repentance. Much medieval teaching worked to restrict the significance of time’s limits by implicitly extending it into the other world. This tendency is perhaps most obvious in the development of the concept of purgatory, where souls could be gradually redeemed through suffering. Indeed in the traditional medieval conception, the soul at death is taken to heaven, purgatory, or hell, where it waits in penultimate glory, hope, or despair until the Last Judgment; only then will it see its final, eternal fate. Meanwhile, the Church could intervene to reduce the penalties that souls in purgatory would have to endure. Time and eternity thus intermingled; the hard shock of death was eased. 234

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 234

12/19/2000 4:42:31 PM

Eschatology, Apocalypticism, and the Antichrist

Martin Luther’s evangelical theology eliminated both the doctrine of purgatory and the underlying implication of quasi-temporal experience after death. Although his positions had certain antecedents among medieval dissenters such as the Waldensians and John Wyclif, Luther’s intense existential concern with the limits of time and the ultimate, eternal realities spurred a critical religious reorientation that had a more profound and lasting influence than any earlier teaching. For Luther, death brought the individual directly to the eternal moment of the resurrection and the Last Judgment. Particularly in the early phases of his career as a reformer, he leaned toward a version of the doctrine known as “psychopannychism,” or soul sleep. The living might conceive the souls of the dead as falling into a deep, dreamless sleep, from which they would suddenly awake at the Last Day. But these departed souls themselves, once beyond time, would instantly experience resurrection, judgment, and the full reality of heaven or hell. Although he later qualified this view, Luther never abandoned it altogether, and his serious engagement with the idea reveals a central current in his movement to revive a biblical eschatology. Most other leading thinkers of the Reformation era would explicitly reject any teaching of soul sleep; John Calvin was among its most prominent and vehement opponents, issuing his Psychopannychia in 1542. Like countless other critics, both Protestant and Catholic, Calvin believed this teaching threatened the very idea of human immortality, and thus amounted to a questioning of God’s power to create man in His own image. Still, the idea found adherents among theological radicals, including numerous Anabaptists, and it would continue to surface occasionally throughout the Reformation era. No less a figure than the English Bible translator and Protestant martyr William Tyndale adopted this position, partly under Luther’s influence. A more explicit variant that came to be known as Christian mortalism taught that the soul died with the body; only the divinely wrought miracle of resurrection would restore humans, body and soul. That mainline thinkers continued to feel a serious threat from such teachings is suggested by significant numbers of late-Reformation tracts written in ardent defense of the immortality of the soul. Just as many of Luther’s Protestant heirs hesitated to accept fully his understanding of death and resurrection, so too they proved less than certain about his teaching on the relationship between this old creation and the new world to come. In the traditional Roman understanding, the end of the world would bring a radical transformation, but not a change in essence. For Luther, however, the end would effectively mean the annihilation of the old creation, a total renewal. Corrupt nature would be entirely transformed into the incomprehensibly perfect Kingdom of God. To be sure, on this point as on many others he was not interested in philosophical reasoning or logical consistency. One could speak of both radical discontinuity and continuing identity: as the resurrected human body would be totally renewed yet still in 235

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 235

12/19/2000 4:42:32 PM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

some sense the same body, so too with the body of the world as a whole. Later in the Reformation era, explicit assertions of world-annihilation would prove controversial. Still, the heightened impulse to divide sharply between time and eternity remained in evidence. Despite their unreadiness to adopt such doctrines as mortalism and worldannihilation, most early Protestants nonetheless shared an apprehension of heaven and hell that stressed not only the projection of these states into the existential awareness of each person, but also the profound otherness of their full eschatological realization. For Luther and his theological heirs, the reborn or “new” man lived outside time, with a foretaste of the eternal kingdom, while the “old” man was already subject to hellish despair. In a crucial sense, salvation and damnation were thus conditions of the conscience, at least dimly perceptible at all times. But the full experience of heaven or hell was an expectation, not yet an existential reality. Hence waiting and watching for the Last Judgment were of the essence; indeed these themes became central in the works of popular eschatological instruction that appeared frequently throughout the late Reformation era (c. 1560–1640). Among the most widely distributed was Basilius Faber’s Christian Teachings on the Last Affairs of the World, which went through some twelve editions in the latter decades of the sixteenth century, and which sought to hammer home a message of imminent reckoning, both personal and universal, in every possible way. The redefinition and sharpening of the border between time and eternity manifested itself somewhat more concretely through major shifts in what historians have come to call “death culture”: the customs, rituals, and attitudes surrounding the end of life. With the end of Purgatory, prayers for the departed lost all meaning; there was no interceding in eternity. The main purpose of funeral rites was now no longer to aid the dead in any way, but rather to convey the Gospel message to the living. The spiritual distancing of the dead helped bring about a physical distancing as well. Traditionally the ideal location for Christian burial had been in or very near a church, close to a saint’s relics and to the congregation of the living. Increasingly in the sixteenth century, cemeteries moved away from these centers, often to the edges of towns. Such changes were by no means always sudden; most often they developed gradually over several generations, with persisting traces of older beliefs and practices. Yet their overall social and cultural significance is impossible to overlook. In sharpening the division between this world and the next, Protestant preachers and teachers sought not to draw attention away from the reality of the grave, but rather to view it in light of the Gospel promise so that it could be faced with assurance, indeed with joy. Sermons, deathbed manuals, and devotional works on preparing for death became staples of Reformation print culture; all presented a reformed art of dying that emphasized confidence in the 236

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 236

12/19/2000 4:42:32 PM

Eschatology, Apocalypticism, and the Antichrist

power of Christ to save sinners. Yet this message depended upon driving home the fact of natural human helplessness, which Luther saw as the basic message of the Law. Evangelical preachers warned consistently against any and all false consolations, the emptiness of all worldly hopes and dreams. No human effort could ever redeem the individual person or the world as a whole. In the face of looming judgment, the only lifeline was Christ; the believer’s central need was simply the experience of faith. Yet this experience was never a given, never secure; it was always a matter of the present state of one’s conscience. Inevitably, then, one struggled continually to discern the genuineness of one’s own faith; this personal, interior struggle would become a central theme in Protestantism generally. Thus we have good reasons to see the Reformation as effecting not simply a liberation from medieval eschatological fears, but rather a concentration and elevation of inherited currents of apprehension. *

*

*

The funneling and intensification of what had been relatively scattered, vague apprehensions is most dramatically evident in the realm of apocalyptic thought. Here eschatology took on its clearest cultural and social dimensions. Although Christianity was an inherently apocalyptic movement, born of ancient Jewish expectancy, during the medieval centuries this aspect of the faith had become significantly less prominent in Latin Christendom. The teachings of the great Church father Augustine (fl. c. 400), discouraged specific prophetic hopes and fears, and thus helped dampen future-directed expectancy. So too did the institutional priorities of the Latin Church. Orthodox eschatology remained predominantly non-apocalyptic, oriented far less to the historical horizon than to the salvation of the individual soul. But despite this largely ahistorical formal orientation of the prevailing monastic, scholastic, and ecclesiastical institutions, it appears that notions about the events of the Last Times and the approaching Day of Judgment were never entirely dormant in western medieval culture. In fact, the centuries following 1000 ce brought a marked resurgence of speculation in this realm. As European Christendom grew busier and more literate, writing and preaching about the critical state of the world, the coming of the Antichrist (Satan’s last, most fearsome agent), and signs of the Last Times grew increasingly common. These concerns were partly a function of spreading historical awareness and interests among churchmen. Especially significant were the writings of the Calabrian abbot Joachim of Fiore (1131–1202), who presented a complex and sophisticated vision of world history as a progression in three stages, from the age of the Father, through that of the Son, to a coming fulfillment in the age of the Holy Spirit. This dynamic prophetic idea posed a profound challenge to the traditional Augustinian view, which sought to look beyond the experience of historical change. 237

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 237

12/19/2000 4:42:32 PM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Various adaptations of Joachim’s scheme formed only one current in the rising tide of apocalyptic expectancy that followed in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. This surge was not unrelated to the disasters of famine, plague, war, and institutional breakdown that marked this era. Yet clear causal connections are difficult to trace, and we need to be cautious about making too-easy correlations between end-time ideas and outward circumstances. Especially dangerous is the tendency—most common in older studies—to posit a close association between apocalyptic notions and outbreaks of social and political unrest. In this view, apocalyptic thinking was inherently radical, an expression of deep alienation from the present world order. Thus its most significant expressions were in revolutionary millenarian movements, the desperate and often violent actions of oppressed or dislocated people with little or nothing to lose in the world as it stood. This view is highly misleading, and has been corrected by numerous studies over the past several decades. It is now clear that apocalyptic expectancy played a significant role among all social classes and at all educational levels. Moreover, visions of current crisis and coming resolution could serve conservative as well as revolutionary goals. Established rulers or institutions might appear as agents of the divine will in times of culminating universal strife. The apocalyptic outlook could also lead in the direction of general withdrawal from political engagement, a preference for passive watching and waiting. In short, the traditional one-sided association of apocalypticism with social extremism and popular revolution is not borne out by historical evidence. By the late fifteenth century, as Renaissance learning gained vitality throughout Europe, the culture of western Christendom showed an increasingly marked and pervasive awareness of time, its passage, and its limits—in regard both to the individual and to the larger world. Several prominent historians have seen connections between this waxing awareness and a unique European upswelling of guilt and apprehension. To the extent that “anxiety is a function of man’s attitude to time,” such connections are difficult to ignore.2 It appears that as they experienced accelerating political, social, economic, and technological changes, Europeans developed a heightened sense of future possibility, and hence a rising general level of anxiety. Among the new influences at work was the printing industry, which quickened the exchange of ideas and perceptions; news, rumors, and speculations could spread more rapidly to larger audiences. Rediscovered ancient prophecies added new fuel to the fires of imagination. An atmosphere thick with mixed hopes and fears spread to all classes. A host of nightmarish prophetic scenarios competed with dreams of a returning golden age or of worldwide reform. Reports of the birth of the Antichrist circulated along with predictions of a bloody invasion by the infidel Turks, a Godly scourge in preparation for the End. 238

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 238

12/19/2000 4:42:32 PM

Eschatology, Apocalypticism, and the Antichrist

Visions of the coming end—or a new beginning—were grounded in a wide variety of textual sources. The prophetic books and passages of Scripture, especially the books of Daniel and Revelation, were of central importance, and would become yet more so in Protestant culture. But pre-Reformation interpreters also turned to a broad array of other sources, both ancient and medieval. Among them were the Christianized Sibylline Oracles, writings from the Byzantine tradition such as those of the Pseudo-Methodius, and the visions of charismatic figures such as Birgitta of Sweden (d. 1373). In addition, the Renaissance obsession with antiquity encouraged a widespread revival of various divinatory arts. By far the most influential was astrology. Especially with the printing of popular calendars and prognostications from the late fifteenth century, this art entered the daily lives of Europeans as never before. Most astrologers stressed that theirs was a fully Christian art that recognized God’s omnipotence. But the growing tendency to apply classical divination in a Christian context served to focus the religious imagination on the apocalyptic elements of Christian prophecy. Astrological predictions inspired the most notable wave of public fear to arise in the period around 1520. This was the anticipation of a second and perhaps world-ending universal flood, associated with ominous planetary conjunctions expected for February of 1524. The swelling panic of the early 1520s, especially marked in the German towns, was more than coincidentally related to the explosive spread of a new evangelical movement. *

*

*

In the context of Reformation studies, the problematic inclination to see a natural alliance between apocalypticism and social or political extremism appears in the tendency to lump together early “radical” figures as those who shared an especially elevated sense of expectancy. It is less than clear that the various Anabaptist groups, spiritualists, and revolutionaries who appeared in the 1520s can be distinguished on this basis from the more mainline preachers of reform. In fact, such “left wing” movements and figures expressed a wide variety of eschatological visions, by no means all millenarian or even apocalyptic. Some, such as Hans Hut, perpetuated earlier medieval ideas about a coming age of purity, and focused on the critical role of those whom God ordained to carry out the necessary renewal. Others may have seen themselves in the role of Old Testament prophets, proclaiming and warning about the Lord’s imminent intervention, yet not necessarily expecting a wholly new spiritual dispensation or the end of the world. Thomas Müntzer has been interpreted in this light in order to suggest that he did not really qualify as an “apocalyptic” thinker at all.3 Indeed some, such as the learned Hans Denck, evidently sought to avoid apocalyptic language, preferring to focus on the personal workings of the Spirit. 239

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 239

12/19/2000 4:42:32 PM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Outright chiliasm, literal belief in the approaching return of Christ to establish a millennial kingdom on earth (Revelation 20), appeared relatively infrequently in the early Reformation; among those who took this view was Augustin Bader, whose fantastic revelations gained him a brutal execution at Stuttgart in 1530. But in the early Reformation era it is often difficult to pin down definite apocalyptic conceptions. Many thinkers were moved by the conviction that a general spiritual outpouring was imminent or already underway, yet remained unclear about such questions as whether Christ would return in his physical body, whether a final cleansing would precede the Judgment, or whether the coming transformation would mean the literal end of time. Melchior Hoffman, for instance, who predicted that Strasbourg would become the New Jerusalem and that Christ would return in 1533, showed the influence of numerous and even conflicting prophetic and apocalyptic traditions. The same is true of the most notorious case of radical social upheaval in the early Reformation, the Anabaptist kingdom at Münster in 1534–5. In place of the questionable approach that associated apocalypticism mainly with the Radical Reformation, we can posit a more useful distinction between active and passive apocalyptic orientations. From this perspective, what set apart a figure such as Thomas Müntzer from the views of mainline evangelicals was not apocalyptic expectancy as such, but rather his preaching that true believers were called to join in the battle against the forces of evil, and thus to help bring on the coming triumph. Nor did this outlook necessarily make Müntzer a millenarian, since it is far from certain that he anticipated a fully new historical age. Turning over the token, we find not only widespread apocalyptic expectancy among Luther’s early adherents, but occasional cases of millenarian thinking. Thus, for instance, Martin Borrhaus, an early convert who had studied under Luther and Philipp Melanchthon, propounded such a view in his 1527 On the Works of God. Similarly, Francis Lambert presented the hope for a coming earthly triumph of the Kingdom in a 1528 commentary on the Book of Revelation, the earliest full Protestant discourse on that key text. To be sure, Article XVII of the 1530 Augsburg Confession bluntly denounced such “Jewish opinions” of earthly victory for God’s people; a similar stance marked the Helvetic Confession of 1566. But these examples underline the point that neither apocalyptic expectancy in general nor even millenarian dreams of spiritual fulfillment on this side of the Last Day are the most useful measures of “radical” teaching in the Reformation era. Reflecting the broad shifts we have noted already in attitudes toward time, death, and eternity, the more “mainline” currents of early Reformation preaching sought to turn the attention of believers away from medieval works and rituals, and to focus instead on prophecy and prayer. The hopes of the Christian came to concentrate on the promises revealed in Scripture, which pointed ahead to future judgment and deliverance. Traditional piety had 240

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 240

12/19/2000 4:42:33 PM

Eschatology, Apocalypticism, and the Antichrist

made available to the believer a broad range of contacts with the sacred, providing immediate if often temporary relief from the burdens of fear and guilt. Although this immense spiritual smorgasbord may often have overwhelmed and oppressed the faithful, it nonetheless had its comforting aspects. By abolishing these everyday reassurances, the Reformation effected a final reorientation and focusing of the medieval apocalyptic imagination. While nearly all of European Christendom witnessed an accelerating discourse of apocalyptic expectancy in the sixteenth century, the Lutheran Reformation in particular served to sanction and indeed to heighten the sense of crisis that had burgeoned in the late Middle Ages. Martin Luther had grown up in that world of anxious excitement, and his religious experience showed its influence. Indeed his outlook was more deeply marked by apocalyptic tendencies than that of any other major reformer. He was far more affected than either Ulrich Zwingli or John Calvin by the sense of a stark, humanly impassable gulf between the present utterly fallen world and the perfection of God’s coming kingdom. This perception was certainly shaped in key ways by the prophetic atmosphere of his age. The common medieval perception of a world in its senescence, for example, was mirrored in his depiction of universal history as a story of decline. On the other hand, the German reformer brought thoroughly fresh eyes to biblical prophecy, and his readings established a fundamentally new and immeasurably consequential tradition of Protestant interpretation. Not only was Luther’s revival of the New Testament hope inseparable from an apocalyptic sense of the imminent end of history, it involved the apprehension of ultimate crisis in the present moment. God and Satan were locked in an all-encompassing struggle. The evangelical movement had begun the final act of this universal drama. The essential truths were now in the open; everything pointed to the imminence of the Last Judgment. Just as the purified Gospel was now available to all who had an ear to hear, so the enemy and his key agent now stood revealed. Luther’s discovery of the biblical Antichrist in the Roman Papacy was the dark but necessary complement to his positive message; it was also perhaps his most lasting contribution to Protestant apocalyptic thought. His view was essentially different from that of medieval critics who had named the popes as Antichrist because of their moral corruption; he also rejected the common notion that this final great enemy would be an individual person. The issue was one of saving truth rather than moral virtue; not the personal holder of the office but the Papal See as an institution was the great perverter of the Gospel. As it stood, the Roman Church was utterly beyond reformation; one could hardly work to reform such an instrument of darkness. It represented the main inward or spiritual threat to Christendom, and this discovery was itself a key sign that the Last Times had come. In Luther’s eyes the advance of the infidel Turks, 241

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 241

12/19/2000 4:42:33 PM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

the biblical Gog and Magog, often appeared as the corresponding external threat in these heavily afflicted final days of the world. At the end of the 1520s such perceptions had Luther rushing to complete his vernacular translation of the Bible, so that the Word might be spread abroad as quickly as possible in whatever short time remained. Though he always opposed date-setting, and acknowledged that the Last Day might yet be generations in the future, his personal belief and hope sprang essentially from a sense of imminence, of life lived “on the brink of eternity.”4 Luther positively longed for the end as a divine deliverance, even as he feared for this world. In keeping with this outlook, Luther gave no credence to the sorts of millennial dreams that had arisen from the prophetic turmoil of the late Middle Ages. Although he could and did engage with medieval prophetic traditions when he found them useful to the gospel cause, he was carefully selective in exploiting extra-biblical materials. He had nothing to do with hopes for a savior–emperor, for a final angelic pope, or for a new spiritual dispensation; he never ceased to insist that Satan’s ragings, and the resulting historical chaos, would continue to the very end. Indeed, Luther’s writing and preaching took on a more consistently apocalyptic character in his later years. His outlook for the time remaining to this world became ever bleaker; he spoke more and more often of the deliverance to come at the Last Day as the only hope. This is one reason why his initial reserve about the complex imagery of the Book of Revelation had waned by the 1530s. His growing distress over worldly conditions led him to search out and clarify the meaning of passages that had earlier appeared confusing or obscure. Many evangelical propagandists showed less hesitancy than Luther in drawing on the broad inherited store of medieval apocalyptic imagery. Thus for example the “Cedar of Lebanon” prophecy, a version of the myth of a coming savior-emperor, was dusted off to show that the evangelical movement was part of the divine plan for the culmination of history, and that the faithful would soon be delivered from their oppression and sufferings. Publicists depicted Luther himself as fulfilling long-standing popular expectations for a “last Elijah,” a great prophet whom God would send to prepare the way for Christ’s return. A variety of predictions by medieval visionaries such as Hildegard of Bingen about sweeping changes to come appeared in pamphlets and broadsheets, contributing to the general ferment of expectancy. Even Joachimist prophecies of a dawning new age could be retooled in a way that allowed them to serve usefully as evangelical propaganda. Indeed while the Bible remained the central text for all Protestant apocalyptic thought, the field of sources on which prophetic writers could draw was very broad, and grew yet wider as the Reformation era wore on. From mid-century, collections of Luther’s own prophetic utterances were gathered and published in widely read volumes. Frequently reflecting the worldly despair of his later years, 242

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 242

12/19/2000 4:42:33 PM

Eschatology, Apocalypticism, and the Antichrist

these predictions did much to stoke the perception that the end was rapidly approaching. *

*

*

For at least a century following the explosion of the Luther affair, evangelical publicists fueled an increasingly explicit, strident, and all-encompassing discourse of the Last Days. The proliferation of vernacular literature and the continuing spread of lay education surely played a part. Basic elements of humanist learning were penetrating lay culture, stirring curiosity and anxious questioning. By mid-century, moreover, as severe factional divisions appeared among Luther’s heirs, as the defenders of Rome regained their footing, and as the despised Calvinists became ever more aggressive, the positive excitement of the early Reformation proved increasingly hard to sustain. Preachers and writers such as Andreas Musculus (d. 1581) of Frankfurt an der Oder saw this corrupt world sliding quickly from bad to worse. Faith and love had grown cold; the decay of morals was so obvious that no temporal hope could remain. God was allowing the Devil to rage as never before, but only until Christ’s return brought the drama of creation to its resolution. Meanwhile the faithful were to live in patience and repentance. It is not easy to tell just how far such a pumped-up awareness of time’s looming end came to pervade the everyday experience of people in particular settings. But the consistent force and passion of preaching and teaching on these themes, not only in Germany but among Protestants more generally, in popular as well as learned writings, private as well as public records, suggests again that the Reformation’s success lay less in overcoming late-medieval spiritual and psychological tensions than in focusing and intensifying them. The approach of the Last Day became a major focus of both fears and hopes. The message of repentance was central; those who heard the Word and turned to the Savior would be delivered. Evidence of the approaching end was everywhere, not only in the contemporary breakdown of human virtue but more broadly in both history and nature. In many eyes no sane person could doubt that biblical prophecy would soon come to complete fulfillment. To be sure, Luther and his associates repeatedly warned against apocalyptic predictions that were too precise or definite. They sought to heed the warning of Matthew 24. 36: “But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of heaven, but my Father only.” Nonetheless, because the conviction that the Last Days had arrived was integral to their outlook, the temptation to calculate was often in evidence. Luther’s friend Michael Stifel, preaching at a village near Wittenberg, notoriously created a local uproar by predicting from his pulpit that the world would end at 8.00 a.m. on October 19, 1533. In 1541 Luther himself published a world chronology, the Supputatio annorum mundi, which counted the years since the Creation and clearly revealed the reformer’s belief that the end was 243

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 243

12/19/2000 4:42:33 PM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

approaching. This work helped establish a tradition of historical and apocalyptic time-reckoning, both in Germany and among Protestants elsewhere. Even more influential was the 1532 Chronica of Johann Carion, a work heavily reworked by Philipp Melanchthon for general instruction in the prophetic outlines of universal history. In his Conjectures on the Last Days and the End of the World of 1544, the Nuremberg preacher Andreas Osiander avoided setting dates, but argued that God commanded the faithful to investigate the order and timing of historical events as they awaited the Second Advent. The predominant world historical scheme, based on the four monarchies of the book of Daniel, was essentially a vision of decline; medieval commentators had commented extensively on it to elaborate on the theme of an aging world. It now found a key supplement in the so-called Prophecy of Elias, which revealed that Creation was assigned to stand 2000 years before the Law, 2000 years under the Law (i.e. under the Old Testament), and 2000 years after the appearance of the Savior. More than 1500 years of this last age had already elapsed, and as Matthew 24.22 announced, the time would be cut short; for “except those days should be shortened, there should no flesh be saved.” When in addition one took account of all the contemporary signs, from the revelation of the Antichrist, to astounding new stars, to shocking moral breakdown, little doubt could remain. Time-reckoning became a pervasive obsession of Lutheran scholars and even literate burghers in the latter half of the sixteenth century; the Papal anouncement of the new Gregorian calendar in 1582, widely regarded as a prime example of the Antichrist’s trickery, sent many into frenzied research on the patterns and imminent culmination of history. Scores of works full of elaborate chronological analyses and calculations sought to prove that the end of the world was indeed close. The proofs in nature were no less compelling. While attention to natural wonders and miraculous signs was nothing new in the sixteenth century, the Reformation’s intensified sense of culminating crisis inflated these preoccupations to entirely new dimensions. In the 1520s Luther and Melanchthon had implicitly sanctioned this burgeoning interest with published illustrations and descriptions of monstrous creatures, the “Monk Calf” and the “Papal Ass,” interpreted as divine warnings against the Papal abomination. In 1531 nearly all observers viewed a bright new comet (later identified by Halley) as a clear warning of divine wrath, if not of the Last Judgment itself. The real flowering of apocalyptic wonder literature, however, came after 1550. The proliferation of popular texts and images now made possible massive published collections that recorded virtually every anomaly in nature as evidence that the old creation was about to collapse. The pastor Job Fincel, whose work on Marvellous Signs first appeared in 1556, labored continually to expand his collection for larger subsequent editions. He stressed the rapid acceleration in the rate at which natural wonders had appeared since Luther’s recovery of 244

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 244

12/19/2000 4:42:33 PM

Eschatology, Apocalypticism, and the Antichrist

the true Gospel. Even as the light of truth beamed brilliantly, God was allowing weird occurrences to multiply in order to show that this old creation was literally disintegrating. Truly to recognize and realize the meaning of such things was of the essence. Strange appearances in the heavens became something of a special field, of particular interest to the astrologers, students of the stars. Historians are only beginning to gain an adequate understanding of the role of astrology in the culture of the German Reformation. Luther showed skepticism toward the art, but his views were neither typical nor determinative. Far more influential in this regard was his colleague Melanchthon, in whose teaching astrology was the foundation of all natural philosophy. For “the teacher of Germany” the heavens presented not only anomalous wonders that held deep meaning; even more important were their measurable regularities. By revealing natural law, the study of the stars offered immensely valuable insight into God’s ordering of the world; it could thus serve both to instruct and to warn. By mid-century astrology had been widely adopted as a major tool of apocalyptic preaching. Countless pastor-astrologers, physicians, and teachers contributed to a popular astrological discourse that complemented and reinforced the message of evangelical sermons. The message was simple: repent now, for the worldly future promises nothing but suffering, and the end is close at hand. As astrological predictions had been the original source of the flood forecasts for 1524, so too they gave rise to later focal dates of expectancy; among the most widely feared and discussed was 1588. Such apocalyptic forecasts continued well into the seventeenth century. As in theological writings, sermons, and didactic confessional literature, definite date setting was generally discouraged among the astrological writers, yet the speculative urge was hard to contain. The prevalence of this sort of apocalyptic astrology was a feature of German Lutheranism that set it significantly apart from other emerging confessions, as well as from the popular religious culture of Catholicism. By the opening decades of the seventeenth century the pervasive atmosphere of expectancy had spawned a mushrooming array of excited, desperate, and confused attempts to discover the crucial mysteries of the divine plan. The assumption that great universal changes were imminent remained as strong as ever, but by this time nearly all limits to apocalyptic speculation had dissolved. Mystical, often escapist, tendencies arose among evangelical thinkers, along with a powerful attraction to the writings of such figures as Paracelsus, who offered a farrago of notions about the possibility of spiritual and cosmic renewal. Hundreds of spiritual adventurers seized on passages such as Daniel 12.4–10 regarding the Last Times: “many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall increase . . . but the wicked shall do wickedly, and none of the wicked shall understand, but the wise shall understand.” In Matthew 10.26 the Lord seemed to underscore this promising point: “there is nothing 245

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 245

12/19/2000 4:42:33 PM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

covered that will not be revealed, and hidden that will not be known.” Earnest efforts to penetrate the heretofore hidden patterns of creation thus proliferated, drawing on the Bible, astrology, alchemy, number mysticism, and even on new personal revelations. Among those involved in this ferment, hopes arose for a new, final, and truly universal Reformation that would complete the work that Luther and others had begun. Such hopes lay behind the famous “Rosicrucian” tracts, the first of which appeared in 1614. At their most extreme these trends reflected a nearly frantic quest for prophetic assurance, for saving knowledge in a world that seemed to have gone mad. A reaction against such wild speculative undertakings had already begun shortly after 1600, but only after the outbreak of the Thirty Years’ War (1618–48) did it gain sufficient force to have tangible effect. To some extent the practical emergencies created by the war pulled the rug from under the heady prophetic dreams of the day. But the reaction had a dynamic of its own as well: the need had become acute to define the bounds of Luther’s legacy in ways that went beyond confessional statements such as the Formula of Concord (1577). Thus in the period following 1620 we see the real formation of “Orthodoxy,” involving a pronounced move away from apocalyptic thinking, and a much more individualized, spiritualized eschatology. The seventeenth-century movement known as Pietism would prove somewhat more open to prophetic conceptions, yet among Pietists too the predominant trend was in the direction of a more purely subjective piety. By around 1640 the era of intense apocalyptic expectancy in Germany was over. *

*

*

As Luther himself had done much to establish the basic outlines of Lutheran apocalyptic thought, so John Calvin would anticipate and influence the main shapes of Calvinist expectancy. Calvin himself showed a clear aversion to apocalyptic interpretation; indeed Revelation was the one biblical book on which he never commented. Like Zwingli, Calvin and his earliest adherents generally avoided approaches to recent or contemporary historical developments that placed them within a prophetic context. Calvin did accept Luther’s identification of the Papacy as the Antichrist, but he refrained from drawing inferences about the approach of the Last Judgment. Again like Zwingli, Calvin revealed a humanistic orientation that grounded his concerns in the Christian community. He was far less affected than Luther by the perception of an infinite gulf between the present world and the perfection of the coming kingdom. Calvin was openly opposed to any form of millenarianism or chiliasm; the Kingdom of God was not of this world. Yet without intending to do so, Calvin actually left open the way for his heirs to adopt millenarian hopes. He could exhort the faithful to a “zeal for daily progress” toward the fullness of the Kingdom, which would come only at the Last Day. He urged them to 246

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 246

12/19/2000 4:42:33 PM

Eschatology, Apocalypticism, and the Antichrist

rejoice in God’s goodness, as “with ever-increasing splendor, he displays his light and truth, by which the darkness and falsehoods of Satan’s kingdom vanish, are extinguished, and pass away.”5 Such visions of the earthly advance of the Kingdom were profoundly different from anything we find in Luther. The Reformed tradition in general, and Calvinism in particular, provided the grounds on which positive hopes for the earthly future could grow within the Protestant sphere. Such hopes were not yet evident in Heinrich Bullinger’s One Hundred Sermons on the Apocalypse (1557), which showed signs of influence from the Lutheran discourse of the imminent Judgment. With the heating up of the wars of religion, however, Reformed thinkers grew in the desire to understand how their current struggles fit into a divine scheme for the evolution of the true Church. Many continental Calvinists expressed waxing confidence in the future progress of the elect, while remaining relatively reserved in their approach to biblical prophecy and insisting that the ways of Providence were beyond human comprehension. But in figures such as the Heidelberg professor David Pareus (d. 1622), more concrete visions of victory emerged. Pareus foresaw the destruction of Roman clerical power, which would open the way to a truly worldwide spread of the purified gospel. Equally revealing of positive hopes, if also far more eclectic and complex, were the writings of the scholarly Johann Heinrich Alsted of Herborn (d. 1638). Alsted’s dauntingly rich and learned studies included apocalyptic calculations based on a wide variety of evidence, including astronomical and astrological data. His most influential work was a Discourse concerning the Thousand Years of the Apocalypse (1627), which focused on Revelation 20. Through highly involved mathematical reckoning, he believed he could predict the full dawning of saintly rule on earth by 1694. Indeed Alsted’s works reflect efforts among at least some Calvinist thinkers to develop a systematic, even scientific approach to prophecy; ironically this was just at the time when, as we have noted, Lutheran orthodoxy was working hard to distance itself from such trends. Renowned as a progressive educational reformer, Jan Amos Comenius (d. 1656), Alsted’s most famous student, advocated new approaches to learning that would help bring on the millennial age of fulfilled understanding. In some cases, Calvinist visions of the future lost the sort of eschatological tension that would qualify them as “apocalyptic.” Foreseeing a spiritual advance and an advent of Christ in the hearts of men before the Last Judgment, these millenarian notions morphed into forms of historical meliorism. Thus, as scholars have long noted, early modern eschatological perspectives contributed powerfully to the modern Western idea of progress. Perhaps ironically, Calvinist millenarianism revealed some notable parallels with various strands of Roman Catholic expectancy, which certainly did not disappear during the Reformation era. Despite profound differences in emphasis, Catholics and Calvinists both found ways to integrate the sacred 247

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 247

12/19/2000 4:42:34 PM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

with the social; neither of these confessional groups insisted as consistently as the Lutherans on a radical separation of, or tension between, the two realms. Thus sixteenth-century Catholicism, like the emerging Reformed tradition, implicitly left room for hopeful anticipations of the earthly future. Yet far more than Calvinists, Catholic leaders generally attempted to suppress public discourse on such themes, as they often had done in the pre-Reformation period. This was one main reason why fears and hopes for the future of the world remained less prominent in Catholic Europe. Particularly after the sack of Rome by Imperial troops (1527), an increasingly defensive clerical establishment worked hard to damp down an atmosphere of popular prophetic ferment in Italy. In Spain, Church authorities were on the lookout for anything smacking of Protestant heresy, including predictions of great changes to come. Still, such official policies were often far from successful. Particularly in the early Reformation era, Catholic publicists retained enough leeway to employ a limited stock of apocalyptic images in opposing the new heretics. Thus Luther or other leading anti-Romanists could be depicted as the Antichrist, sent to lead believers astray before the end of the world. Moreover, traditional strands of hope for a savior emperor or a spiritually heroic pope were not taboo. Humanist astrologers, for instance, continued until at least mid-century to project strong hopes for a divinely sanctioned triumph of Habsburg leadership. In the 1540s the Viennese physician Wolfgang Lazius synthesized a variety of hopeful medieval prophetic strains, taking the reign of Charles V as their likely fulfillment. Later in the century in Venice, tensions with the Counter-Reformation Papacy revived dreams of a new angelic pope who would lead a true revival of the Church universal. Here too, as in Spain and elsewhere, Joachimist visions of a dawning age of peaceful understanding continued to circulate, as for example among many Jesuits, who came to envision their order as a prophetically ordained agency for the realization of the final spiritual triumph. Similar notions spread among the Franciscans, whose missions in the New World were intimately bound up with a confident sense of helping to lead in the millennial reign. Often, learned apocalyptic speculation remained largely hidden from public view, in biblical commentaries and other scholarly writings. Scholars disagree about the level of eschatological tension in sixteenthcentury Catholic France, but it does appear that here apocalyptic strains were somewhat more prominent than elsewhere in the Catholic world. In the early and middle decades of the century, preachers and writers such as Pierre Turrel and Richard Roussat showed little hesitation in interpreting biblical prophecies, correlating them with contemporary developments, and announcing the closeness of the end. Although on a far lesser scale than in Lutheran Germany, astrological evidence played a role here as well. The famous Nostradamus was neither a highly knowledgeable astrologer nor a consistently apocalyptic 248

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 248

12/19/2000 4:42:34 PM

Eschatology, Apocalypticism, and the Antichrist

thinker, but his predictions did contribute to rising public anxiety during the opening phases of the French Wars of Religion (c. 1562–95). Those years of continuing violence witnessed a considerable stream of Catholic prophecies about the culminating battle between God and the Devil. Yet neither in France nor elsewhere in Catholic Europe did apocalyptic interpretation exercise as pervasive an influence as in Protestant settings. Increasingly, open preaching or publication of apocalyptic ideas became associated with heresy among Catholics. In the Habsburg lands, Church officials mounted a sustained campaign against popular prophecy of virtually any sort. Here as in other settings where the traditional faith survived or was revived, the broad and varied channels between heaven and earth, the dead and the living, tended to short-circuit the currents that elsewhere were redirected to a few points of burning expectancy. In Catholic preaching, the hope of salvation was less a matter of watching and waiting, more a matter of nursing here and now at the breast of Holy Mother Church. To be sure, various forms of collective expectancy remained alive in the Roman tradition, yet Catholic eschatology remained on the whole less oriented to the historical horizon, more individualized and spiritualized than prevailing Protestant outlooks. *

*

*

In England, apocalypticism evolved in a pattern that was, like the English Reformation generally, quite distinct from any other. In many ways a cultural backwater in the early sixteenth century, the country was largely an importer of ideas from the Continent. German Lutheranism had already exercised a strong influence in the time of Henry VIII, and literate English townsfolk were not slow to find crucial meaning in the new preaching and the struggle against the Roman Antichrist. These perceptions gained ground quickly after mid-century, especially during and following the period of the Marian persecution of Protestants (1553–8). From that point on, the main lines of apocalyptic thinking in England would develop in close connection with the rise of a sense of English nationhood. Through at least the end of the Elizabethan era (1603), English Protestant preaching tended to follow the basic Lutheran pattern, though generally with less stark emphasis on the hopeless corruption of this world. In the 1580s the Bishop of London, Edwin Sandys, preached passionate sermons on the coming end of the world, decrying the sinfulness of his age while calling on believers to examine their consciences, and to repent before it was too late. But even as such themes persisted, significant new impulses were making themselves felt. The writings of John Bale (d. 1563) and John Foxe (d. 1587) focused especially on the reform movement in England, giving it a central place in God’s providential plan. Foxe’s Actes and Monuments (English ed., 1563) highlighted the suffering and deaths of English Protestant martyrs as 249

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 249

12/19/2000 4:42:34 PM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

key steps in the fulfillment of the divine will for the nation. By the time of the Spanish Armada (1588), feelings of confidence in the prophetic destiny of the kingdom were becoming widespread. In Scotland, where Calvinism was securely established by the 1560s, similarly positive hopes were emerging. The mathematician John Napier published his widely read work, A Plaine Discovery of the Whole Revelation, in 1593. Steeped in biblical prophecy and convinced that its secrets were to be found out through careful calculation, Napier speculated that the Antichrist would fall in 1639, and that the Last Judgment would occur before the end of the seventeenth century. Other writers picked up on the hope that Christ’s main enemies might be destroyed before the end, which was one step along the way to a broader acceptance of explicit millenarianism. A series of influential English scholars, most of whom represented Puritan leanings, did much to foster that acceptance. Thomas Brightman, a Presbyterian, thought the final progress toward the millennium was under way; he expected the defeat of the Roman Antichrist and a full triumph of the gospel within a matter of generations. This scheme shared much in common with the gradualist approach we have noted among continental Calvinists. A more literal, tensely apocalyptic view characterized the works of Joseph Mede, whose immensely influential Apocalyptic Key (1627) anticipated a rapid unfolding in the future of the events that would inaugurate the Kingdom on earth. These were only the most prominent authors among many who began to express openly millenarian visions in the period leading up to the outbreak of the English Civil War. Such hopes were by no means universally accepted. In the years before and during the Civil War, they still competed with non-millenarian forms of expectancy. As in earlier continental settings, we find no consistent relationships between eschatological outlooks and political positions. That the early and mid-seventeenth century was a high point of apocalyptic tension and speculation in England, however, appears beyond doubt. In the eyes of many English Protestants, the threat of antichristian powers had never been greater, and lurked even within the established structures of Church and State. Such convictions helped motivate the outward migration of Puritans who hoped that other lands would offer better soil for the work of the Lord. For many who remained, the great apocalyptic crisis seemed to have arrived definitively with the outbreak of armed conflict between King and Parliament. The period of the Civil War and Interregnum (c. 1640–60) witnessed an explosion of apocalyptic thinking, leading in many directions that must remain beyond the scope of this chapter. In many respects, this period of boiling and bursting anticipation, full of mixed hope and despair, excitement and fear, zealous action and withdrawal, marked the last great surge of Reformation apocalypticism, and did much to carry the weighty influences of its varied forms of expectancy into the modern age. 250

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 250

12/19/2000 4:42:34 PM

Eschatology, Apocalypticism, and the Antichrist

The English case is perhaps the clearest example of the way in which apocalyptic ideas contributed to the formation of new group identities in Reformation Europe. In the sixteenth century the struggle against the forces of the Roman Antichrist became central to the evolving idea of English nationhood; in the seventeenth, contested concepts of the nation were fought out not only with arms, but also through many clashing visions of God’s plan and the role of contemporary circumstances within it. But numerous parallel instances are evident even in our very limited survey. From defensive German Lutherans who saw themselves as the very last witnesses to truth, watching and waiting as the final cataclysm approached, to Calvinists who sought to live as God’s elect, destroying idolatry as they prepared the way for the Kingdom, to Franciscans who believed their order had been chosen to carry out the divine will through missions in far off lands, emerging movements and cultures were animated by differing interpretations of current crisis and of coming resolution. Most markedly in the Protestant realm, newly focused eschatological fears and longings shaped not only spiritual and psychological experience, but social and political realities as well. *

*

*

As we noted early on, apocalyptic thinking had two essential aspects or goals, corresponding to the two basic meanings of “prophecy.” One involved spiritual warning and consolation; the other had to do with understanding God’s plan. The two aspects were closely intertwined, but ultimately the issue of understanding appears to have had more direct implications for the culture of the West. By dwelling on urgent questions about ultimate realities, the apocalyptic prophecy of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries spurred new quests for insight into the workings of nature and history. Prophetic research became increasingly intensive, detailed, and even sophisticated; it would thus come to form the context in which many “modern” disciplines emerged. The study of historical chronology is an obvious example. Students of history’s prophetic structure, consulting not only the Scriptures but countless other sources, produced newly accurate timelines of events, especially since antiquity. Similarly in mathematics, novel methods evolved in the context of apocalyptic calculation, which often required highly complex reckonings. Apocalyptic obsessions with both natural wonders and natural regularities, either of which might convey an understanding of the divine will and intention, helped to inspire intensive and sustained habits of observation. The widespread debate over the meaning of such astounding phenomena as the new stars (novae) of 1572 and 1604 was carried on not by dispassionate modern scientists, but in large part by men who showed a longing to understand the hidden truths of the Last Times. 251

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 251

12/19/2000 4:42:34 PM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Apocalyptic thinking arguably underlay the emergence of even more basic attitudes pointing the way to modernity. As mentioned earlier, many scholars have argued that the hopeful outlook that developed most notably through Calvinist millenarianism was the main root of the modern idea of historical progress. In this view, modernity required a reversal of the traditional conception—still strong in the sixteenth century—of world history as a story of decline. This reversal occurred not through a rejection of biblical beliefs and apocalyptic visions, but from the attitude of Calvinist confidence that found Scriptural grounds for hope rather than despair in regard to the earthly future. The most striking cultural shift that resulted from such positive anticipation was a belief that knowledge—particularly scientific knowledge—could and would progress. Thus by the early and mid-seventeenth century, Calvinist millenarian hopes were promoting “a confident, active, and exploratory approach to nature.”6 No less central a figure than Francis Bacon was moved by such assumptions to construct a program for the advancement of human knowledge. Similarly the foundation of the Royal Society (1661), a key step in the institutionalization of modern science, reflected a concept of progress that derived from visions of a new dawn in world history. On the other hand, the heritage of Reformation apocalypticism may have been more sobering, and even more far-reaching, than this picture of emerging progressivism might suggest. Here we must return to the issue of anxiety in the face of an apparently infinite gulf between life and death, time and eternity. From the beginning Protestant preaching—especially but not exclusively in its Lutheran forms—had emphasized the Christian sense of life lived on the last edge of time, in the face of an absolute end to this life and to the entire old creation. Although Luther’s heirs had not always grasped it fully, many Protestant preachers continued to hammer on this existential perception. It meant the ultimate helplessness and utter dependence of human beings. It highlighted the limits of reason and knowledge, downplayed intellectual speculation, and emphasized practical solutions to immediate problems. Indeed this perspective, itself founded on an apocalyptic sense of the otherness of the eternal kingdom, actually preempted contemplation of the divine plan, which remained inevitably hidden. It undermined all rational and imaginative structures beyond the Gospel promise, which was not reasoned or imagined, but revealed. It saw no genuine hope for this world, for any and all true hope had its basis in eternity. The seventeenth century offers much evidence that similar perceptions remained very much alive, and indeed may have gained ground as a result of spreading confusion and disillusionment. As one adventuresome interpreter concluded in the wake of many excited pronouncements, “I am no prophet or fortune-teller, but a liar, as are all men.”7 Thus apocalypticism could and did move Christian thinkers in the direction of worldly pessimism, practical skepticism, and fideism: 252

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 252

12/19/2000 4:42:34 PM

Eschatology, Apocalypticism, and the Antichrist

attitudes that were deeply at odds with the hopeful millennial vision that lent such confidence to many Calvinists. To be sure, elements of both these polar perspectives were naturally often mixed in the same person. To some extent they inevitably coexisted. As Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus knew, even one who felt his utter helplessness in the face of eternal judgment might never quite bring himself to burn his books. In this way the apocalyptic thought of the Reformation led European Christians toward a paradoxical and quite modern combination of daring hopes for this world on one hand, skepticism and threatening despair on the other.

Bibliography Asendorf, Ulrich. Eschatologie bei Luther. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 1967. Backus, Irena. Reformation Readings of the Apocalypse. Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2000. Ball, Bryan W. A Great Expectation: Eschatological Thought in English Protestantism to 1660. Leiden: Brill, 1975. —. The Soul Sleepers: Christian Mortalism from Wycliffe to Priestley. Cambridge: James Clarke, 2008. Barnes, Robin Bruce. Prophecy and Gnosis: Apocalypticism in the Wake of the Lutheran Reformation. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1988. Bauckham, Richard (ed.). Tudor Apocalypse: Sixteenth-Century Apocalypticism, Millenarianism and the English Reformation. Appleford: Sutton Courtenay Press, 1978. Bostick, Curtis. The Antichrist and the Lollards: Apocalypticism in Late Medieval and Reformation England. Leiden and Boston, MA: Brill, 1998. Bouwsma, William J. “Anxiety and the Formation of Early Modern Culture.” In Barbara C. Malament (ed.), After the Reformation: Essays in Honor of J. H. Hexter. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylania Press, 1980, 218. Brecht, Martin et al. (eds). Chiliasmus in Deutschland und England im 17. Jahrhundert (Pietismus und Neuzeit, 14). Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1988. Capp, Bernard. The Fifth Monarchy Men: A Study in Seventeenth-Century English Millenarianism. Totowa, NJ: Rowman & Littlefield, 1972. Christianson, Paul. Reformers and Babylon: English Apocalyptic Visions from the Reformation to the Eve of the Civil War. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1978. Crouzet, Denis. Les Guerriers de Dieu: La Violence des Troubles de Religion, vers 1525vers 1610, 2 vols. Seyssel: Champ Vallon, 1990. Cunningham, Andrew and Ole Peter Grell. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Religion, War, Famine, and Death in Reformation Europe. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Delumeau, Jean. La Peur en Occident (XIV–XVIII siècles). Paris: Fayard, 1978. —. Sin and Fear: The Emergence of a Western Guilt Culture, 13th–18th Centuries. New York: St Martin’s, 1990. 253

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 253

12/19/2000 4:42:35 PM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology Deppermann, Klaus. Melchior Hoffman: Soziale Unrest and Apocalyptic Visions in the Age of Reformation. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1987. Edwards, Mark U., Jr. Luther’s Last Battles: Politics and Polemics, 1531–46. Ithaca, NY and London: Cornell University Press, 1983. Fanlo, Jean-Raymond and André Tournon (eds). Formes du Millénarisme en Europe à L’Aube des Temps Modernes. Paris: Honoré Champion, 2001. Firth, Katharine R. The Apocalyptic Tradition in Reformation Britain 1530–1645. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1979. Fix, Andrew. Prophecy and Reason: The Dutch Collegiants in the Early Enlightenment. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1991. Gow, Andrew C. The Red Jews: Antisemitism in an Apocalyptic Age, 1200–1600. Leiden and New York: Brill, 1995. Haase, Roland. Das Problem des Chiliasmus und der dreissigjährige Krieg. Leipzig: Gebr. Gerhardt, 1933. Hamilton, Alastair. The Apocryphal Apocalypse: The Reception of the Second Book of Esdras (4 Ezra) from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1999. Hill, Christopher. Antichrist in Seventeenth-Century England. London and New York: Oxford University Press, 1971. Hofmann, Hans-Ulrich. Luther und die Johannes-Apokalypse. Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1982. Hotson, Howard. Paradise Postponed: Johann Heinrich Alsted and the Birth of Calvinist Millenarianism. Dordrecht; Boston, MA; London: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 2000. Koslofsky, Craig M. The Reformation of the Dead: Death and Ritual in Early Modern Germany, 1450–1700. New York: St Martin’s Press, 2000. Lamont, William. Godly Rule: Politics and Religion, 1603–60. New York: St Martin’s Press, 1969. —. Richard Baxter and the Millennium: Protestant Imperialism and the English Revolution. Totowa, NJ: Rowman & Littlefield, 1979. Lerner, Robert. The Powers of Prophecy: The Cedar of Lebanon Vision from the Mongol Onslaught to the Dawn of the Enlightenment. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983. List, Günther. Chiliastische Utopie und Radikale Reformation. Munich: Fink, 1973. McGinn, Bernard. Visions of the End: Apocalyptic Traditions in the Middle Ages. New York: Columbia University Press, 1979. —. Antichrist: Two Thousand Years of the Human Fascination with Evil. New York: HarperCollins, 1994. McGinn, Bernard, John J. Collins, and Stephen J. Stein (eds). The Continuum History of Apocalypticism. New York: Continuum, 2003. McLaughlin, R. Emmet. “Apocalypticism and Thomas Müntzer.” Archive for Reformation History 95 (2004): 98–131. Niccoli, Ottavia. Prophecy and People in Renaissance Italy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1990. Oberman, Heiko A. Luther: Man between God and the Devil. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1989.

254

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 254

12/19/2000 4:42:35 PM

Eschatology, Apocalypticism, and the Antichrist Patrides, C. A. and Joseph Wittreich (eds). The Apocalypse in English Renaissance Thought and Literature: Patterns, Antecedents, and Repercussions. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1984. Petersen, Rodney L. Preaching in the Last Days: The Theme of “Two Witnesses” in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1993. Peuckert, Will-Erich. Die Grosse Wende: Das apokalyptische Saeculum und Luther, 2 vols. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftlische Buchgesellschaft, 1966. Phelan, John Leddy. The Millennial Kingdom of the Franciscans in the New World: A Study of the Writings of Geronimo de Mendieta (1525–1604). Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1970. Preuss, Hans. Die Vostellungen vom Antichrist im späteren Mittelalter, bei Luther und in der konfessionellen Polemik. Leipzig: J.J. Hinrichs, 1906. —. Martin Luther, der Prophet. Gütersloh: C. Bertelsmann, 1933. Quistorp, Heinrich. Calvin’s Doctrine of the Last Things. London: Lutterworth Press, 1955. Reeves, Marjorie. Joachim of Fiore and the Prophetic Future. London: SPCK, 1976. —. The Influence of Prophecy in the Later Middle Ages: A Study of Joachimism. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969. Reinis, Austra. Reforming the Art of Dying: The ars moriendi in the German Reformation (1519–1528). Aldershot and Burlington: Ashgate, 2007. Rusconi, Roberto (ed.). Storia e figure dell’Apocalisse fra ‘500 e ‘600: Atti del 4 Congresso Internazionale di studi gioachimiti. Rome: Viella, 1996. Staehelin, Ernst. Die Verkündigung des Reich Gottes in der Kirche Jesu Christi. Zeugnisse aus allen Jahrhunderten und allen Konfessionen, 4 vols. Basel: F. Reinhardt, 1957. Toon, Peter (ed.), Puritans, the Millennium, and the Future of Israel: Puritan Eschatology 1600–1660. Cambridge: James Clarke, 1970. Tuveson, Ernest Lee. Millennium and Utopia: A Study in the Background of the Idea of Progress. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1949. Webster, Charles. The Great Instauration: Science, Medicine, and Reform 1626–1660. New York: Holmes and Meier, 1975. Whitford, David. “The Papal Antichrist: Martin Luther and the Underappreciated Influence of Lorenzo Valla.” Renaissance Quarterly 61 (2008): 26–52. Wilkes, Michael (ed.). Prophecy and Eschatology. Oxford and Cambridge: Blackwell, 1994. Zambelli, Paola (ed.). “Astrologi hallucinati”: Stars and the End of the World in Luther’s Time. Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1986.

255

9780567033604_Ch14_Final_txt_print.indd 255

12/19/2000 4:42:35 PM

15

Political Theology in the Reformation Volker Leppin

At first glance, Reformation theology does not seem, in itself, to be political. If there is something that comprises the core of the reformatory message, it would be the gospel of a person justified by faith alone, regardless of that person’s social or political concerns. But “pure theology” is not apolitical in any way as no one has better shown than Karl Barth in the twentieth century with his claim that to do theology is a political act.1 Theology even if one means pure theological inquiry becomes political because it is always lived out in a social and political context. Thus, political theology in the Reformation era can be best understood when we understand the respective social and political circumstances in which it was written and debated. We examine various environments to help us understand the different shapes that political theology could take in the Reformation movement.

Territorial Context The most famous and widely discussed model of political theology during the Reformation era is Luther’s doctrine of the Two Kingdoms or the Two Governments. Largely beginning in the nineteenth and then as it relates to the Third Reich in the twentieth century, Luther’s doctrine of the Two Kingdoms was accused of encouraging a Lutheran “Obrigkeitshörigkeit” – or quietism as the Church related to the secular government. The charge is that Luther required his followers to quietly obey their secular rulers regardless of their actions.2 Due to this serious charge, in the twentieth century (and into the twenty-first) there was a concerted effort to understand and to debate over the correct understanding of this doctrine. To understand this doctrine, we need to understand its original context. Luther developed his teaching on “Obrigkeit” or authority in the beginning of the Reformation movement to help orient or advise the princes of Saxony as to how far his new theology would concern their politics. Luther’s reflections on the Two Kingdoms or Governments are first explained in his Obrigkeitsschrift “Von weltlicher Oberkeit, wieweit man ihr Gehorsam schuldig sei” On Secular Authority: How Far it Should be Obeyed 256

9780567033604_Ch15_Final_txt_print.indd 256

12/19/2000 10:04:15 AM

Political Theology in the Reformation

(1523). This treatise was first formulated in its broadest terms in a series of sermons preached by Luther at the Weimar court in October 1522 in the presence of John of Saxony.3 In 1522, the question of implementing the Reformation formally in Saxony was still quite unclear. The question of whether John himself or his brother and the imperial-elector Frederick had openly claimed their support for the Reformation is also quite debatable. However, John had showed more sympathies to it and in the part of Saxony that was under his authority there was a greater possibility of implementing the Reformation more broadly than in the part of the duchy that was directly under Frederick’s control.4 Thus, as Luther rose to preach in Weimar it was with the understanding that doing so also meant the possibility of strengthening these sympathies and using them for further efforts of reform. As Luther considered the relationship between politics and Reformation theology, there was a very important question that had to be answered. The question seems to have been first posed by Johannes, Freiherr von Schwarzenberg, a lesser noble. After having revealed the Gospel again shouldn’t it be the only measure for political acting, meaning: Should not all worldly government first of all respect the Gospel and so adapt their reign to the principles of the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5. This perspective, clearly, would make all earthly government more difficult to oversee and therefore would not be particularly attractive for princes who had to govern their territories. This is neither an insignificant question nor an easily solved dilemma. In order to answer Schwarzenberg’s question, Luther had to examine the relationship between the Gospel and the Law as they relate to secular power and authority. Luther had to show why, despite the revelation of the Gospel, it was still the Law that was and should be the foundation for human government. Indeed, Luther argued that by following the law earthly government could act in accordance with God’s will, even if it had to use power, force, and the sword instead of just “turning the other cheek” to criminals or law breakers. Luther’s solution was a clear distinction of humankind into two groups: Here we must divide the children of Adam and all mankind into two classes, the first belonging to the kingdom of God, the second to the kingdom of the world. Those who believe belong to the kingdom of God are all the true believers who are in Christ and under Christ. . . . All who are not Christians belong to the Kingdom of God and are under the law.5 Obviously, this distinction creates a number of problems for those who wish to understand Luther’s political theology. Especially because this seems to confuse what is often considered to be one of the central tenants of Lutheran Theology. For example, if one compares Luther’s statement here to the Joint Declaration on Justification between Lutherans and the Vatican, one is almost 257

9780567033604_Ch15_Final_txt_print.indd 257

12/19/2000 10:04:15 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

immediately surprised by how quickly Luther seems to neglect the position that a person is at the same time righteous and a sinner, the famous simul iustus et peccator. If one can divide mankind as clearly as the quote suggests, there seems to be no space left for such a “simul.” So, less surprisingly, modern research has done much to try and explain away this difficulty. First, scholars note that Luther does not speak of just Two Kingdoms (Zwei Reiche) of men, that is, the two groups of people (Christian and non), but also of Two Governments (Zwei Regimente—the spiritual government and the worldly government), or the two means by which God governs or orders God’s Creation. However, having agreed on the fact that Luther uses both terms, modern research has come to enormously differing interpretations of implications of these distinctions for a correct understanding of Luther’s political theology. One can discern five general arguments of understanding:6 Functional understanding: According to this interpretation, Luther sees the Christian as understood in the simul iustus et peccator. As this relates to his political thought, the Christian is a citizen of both kingdoms. Thus, the Christian is simultaneously a member of the Kingdom of God and the kingdom of the world. Alongside this, the Christian experiences both the spiritual government of God through the Church and the world government of God through secular authority (princes, judges, etc.). Personal understanding: In this view, the Christian is not a citizen of both kingdoms, but fully and alone a member only of the Kingdom of God. In his own right, he is not a member of the worldly kingdom. However, love moves him to get involved with it as a witness to Christ’s reign over the world. Understanding in the light of the history of salvation: In this understanding, the kingdom of the world is proleptic and temporary. It has been ordained by God as a preparation for the Kingdom of Christ and it will be overwhelmed by it. When viewed individually, the Christian was once a member of the kingdom of the world but has now through grace been engrafted into the Kingdom of God. Eschatological understanding: Here, Christians are citizens of both kingdoms and are in the midst of God’s struggle with the evil. As allies of God in this eschatological struggle, the Christian has a responsibility for the world. Hermeneutical understanding: In this view, the distinction between the Two Kingdoms is less important to concrete political concerns. Rather, it is Luther’s interpretative framework for understanding and expressing a “Christian worldview,” that explains how God works in the Creation and helps clarify a proper distinction between God’s governing of the spiritual lives of people and God’s governing of the worldly aspects of a person’s life. What these five understandings demonstrate is not just the fact that scholars can read Luther very differently even when reading the same text but that how one understands the relationship between his concepts of kingdom and 258

9780567033604_Ch15_Final_txt_print.indd 258

12/19/2000 10:04:16 AM

Political Theology in the Reformation

government are critical to any true understanding of his political theology. First, it is clear that Luther wants to stress that the Christian, in himself, is not part of the worldly kingdom. At the same time, however, he never denies that the Christian has to be subject to both kingdoms. Solving the conundrum, then, requires that we turn to look at the Two Governments before finding the answer to our question. Indeed, when we turn to the Two Governments we find the answer to Schwarzenberg’s question. As both governments are ruled by God through this twofold Word (i.e., the Law and the Gospel), human beings live under both governments. The sacred government, exercised through the Church, is accomplished through the proclamation of God’s Word to the world through the Gospel (the Good News of Jesus Christ) and the Law in its theological use, which condemns sin and drives the soul to seek Christ. In the sacred government, both the Law and the Gospel are intended to make one a believer or to strengthen one’s faith in Christ. The worldly government is ordained to restrain human sin. Its instrument is the sword (meaning the power to punish wrongdoing), which is wielded by worldly government. So, both governments are used by God to reign over the world. But it is the existence of sin in the world, expressed by the worldly kingdom of sinners, which makes the second government of sword and Law (in its political or legal sense) necessary. Thus, when one looks at our pilgrimage on earth, even if it was possible to discern pure Christians from sinners (which the simul makes theologically impossible), these Christians would nevertheless inevitably be mixed up with the sinners in any human community. Therefore God has established government by sword and the Law in order to curb sin and malfeasance. According to Luther, God has given the government of the sword into the hands of the earthly government. Princes, in this understanding, have not only the power, but even the duty, to govern using the law. Admittedly, this does not mean that a Christian government official should or could be merciless. The Christian prince ought to be an adherent to the Gospel in all his political activities, but as it relates to his use of the sword his main purpose is the defense of his subjects against uncontrolled violence. Here we can see a similarity or a prelude to Hobbes’ theory regarding the foundation of modern states. There is one important difference between Luther and Hobbes, however. In Luther, the state is not a cruel Leviathan that prevents men from becoming like wolves unto their neighbors. Rather, it is God who has set governing authorities in their place to watch over and protect his people. Thus, Luther echoes St Paul in Romans 13 where Paul writes that governments are established by God and are a terror to those who are evil, not to those who are good. Having now clarified the point that a Christian must live in a world populated by sinners and therefore lives under both governments established by God for the maintenance of human society, we must now turn to look at the 259

9780567033604_Ch15_Final_txt_print.indd 259

12/19/2000 10:04:16 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

positive implications of Luther’s political theology and the historical setting in which Luther wrote. Luther believed that there were positive social implications lived out in the political sphere by those who adopted a Reformation theology. From a very early point, Luther’s theology was also an appeal to political authorities to reconstruct the Church and society and replace ecclesiastical authorities, who, in Luther’s view, showed themselves as unable or unwilling to reform either themselves, the churches under their authority, or the cities and towns that they governed.7 Because these church leaders were failing to do their duty to reform sin and vice within the church and without, Luther believed that secular leaders could temporarily take this initiative upon themselves. The foundation for this authority was Luther’s doctrine of the priesthood of all believers, which is most clearly explained in his treatise of 1520, To the Christian Nobility of the German Nation, It follows from this argument that there is no true, basic difference between laymen and priests, princes and bishops, between religious and secular, except for the sake of office and work, but not for the sake of status. They are all of the spiritual estate, all are truly priests, bishops, and popes. But they do not all have the same work to do. Just as all priests and monks do not have the same work.8 Luther’s statement here is nothing less than revolutionary. Indeed, it is an almost complete overthrowing of many juridical or legal traditions of the Middle Ages. In the medieval era, people were divided into separate estates and these estates were ordered hierachically. The ecclesiastical estate was the highest and most important. They prayed for and represented the rest of humanity before God. The nobility made up the next estate and they protected the people. The largest estate was made up of the common people (which included everyone from rich city burghers to the lowest peasant or slave). Here Luther overthrew those hierarchies in one sense – theologically. He argued that all Christians are equal before God and equal in the church. He used this belief to legitimize the actions of political authorities as they set out to reform the churches in their territories. Indeed, priesthood of all believers stands out as a key instance that shows how a theological insight had wideranging political implications. Indeed, it was this very theological concept that paved the way to a real reshaping of society. This consequence did not come about suddenly. Nor was it entirely new with Luther. For example, in the fourteenth century, William of Ockham had established the belief that the emperor as the most important figure within the Christian society of the Holy Roman Empire was called to be responsible for reforming the church in the case of all ecclesiastical authorities showing themselves unable or unworthy to do this. Ockham’s call went largely unheeded, but in the sixteenth century, 260

9780567033604_Ch15_Final_txt_print.indd 260

12/19/2000 10:04:16 AM

Political Theology in the Reformation

Luther’s call became quite powerful when combined with the concept of the priesthood of all believers. Following the First Diet of Speyer in 1526, the territories of Hesse and Saxony started to reform their duchies. They did this by establishing “visitations.” Sending out visitors, or examiners, who inspected the theological and ecclesiastical life of parishes in a given area, was not completely new for temporal governors. It was occasionally practiced in the Middle Ages. It was always, however, an interference into what should have been the sole responsibility of the local bishop. Luther’s theology introduced a new justification for this interference in episcopal rights and duties. According to Luther’s political and theological vision, in principal baptism gave episcopal status to all believers. And when those who had been bestowed with this special status in the office of bishop had failed to oversee their dioceses, one had to look for someone else within the general priesthood of believers who was willing to bear the office instead. Because this role of oversight was important and required a requisite sense of authority, Luther believed that secular princes as “principle members” of the Christian community were best suited to this work. They had the authority and prestige to undertake such a task. By setting up secular lords as those who had the opportunity, power, and legitimacy to oversee ecclesiastical reforms, Luther intimately connected the Reformation in Germany to the territorial principalities within the Holy Roman Empire. In making the connection between reform and territory Luther was not alone. Indeed, ironically he shared this commitment with one who is not often associated with territorial reformation—Thomas Müntzer, one of the leaders of the so-called Peasants’ War of 1525. Too often, it is forgotten that Müntzer began his work for church and societal reform within a territorial context. Indeed, he tried to enlist the princes of Saxony in his quest for a theologically pure society. There are surprisingly a number of parallels between him and Luther at this point: Luther preached his most important sermon on earthly government at Weimar in 1522 to Prince John. Two years later, Müntzer tried to win the same prince and his son John Frederick to his cause with his famous “Fürstenpredigt” (Princes’ Sermon) at Allstedt Castle where he preached on Daniel 2. The differences begin to appear when one looks at the different visions of a prince’s duty. According to Müntzer, a prince’s duty was not, as in Luther, established to bring humanity’s sin under control and in extraordinary situations to reform the life of the church. Rather, Müntzer believed that a prince was called to execute God’s last will with mankind. As King Jehu purified Israel in the Old Testament, Müntzer called on John and John Frederick to purify Church and territory according to God’s Law. Thus, Müntzer was giving a different answer to Schwarzenberg’s question to Luther. Another difference was the apocalyptic nature of Müntzer’s theology. He believed that God’s plan for humanity was nearing completion and that he was called to help usher the 261

9780567033604_Ch15_Final_txt_print.indd 261

12/19/2000 10:04:16 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

End Times into reality. As such, he called on the princes to quickly bring society into right accord with God, and Christ, by following his prophetic advice.9 Müntzer failed to win the princes to his cause. They did not seem eager to adopt his vision or abdicate to him their roles as leaders. Frustrated by this and angered by their rejection he later on moved to the peasants as his locus for renewing society and Church according to his prophetic vision. He became one of the leading figures in the 1525 Peasants’ War.

Urban Context The process of Reformation in large cities was very different from that in the territories of Saxony or Hesse. While Luther and his companions in Wittenberg worked most closely with territorial leaders such as Duke John the Steadfast, in the south of the Holy Roman Empire, with its large cities, urban preachers looked to local authorities and city magistrates as they sought to move theological reforms forward. The most famous example was Zurich with Huldrych Zwingli as its leading figure; another important example is Strasbourg where Martin Bucer led the implementation of the Reformation. The breakthrough of the Reformation in Zurich actually came about through a public disputation when the city council claimed the authority to decide matters of faith. Following what has since been called the First Zurich Disputation, the city council voted to allow Zwingli to continue his biblical preaching. Zwingli’s “biblical preaching” had definite and discernable Reformation themes punctuating each sermon. Depending upon local city leaders to support and enable the progress of the Reformation meant that pro-Reformation preachers had to put an enormous amount of trust in temporal authorities. This level of trust often found an equivalent expression in their political theology. For example, in 1523, Zwingli clearly distinguished between temporal authority and spiritual authority in a way that is somewhat reminiscent of Luther’s Two Kingdoms; however, he arrived at a different conclusion. On the one hand, Zwingli believed that Godly justice ought to be preached by the pastors who brought the Gospel to the believers. Zwingli understood God’s justice as a higher and more perfect form of justice than mere human justice, which is established to punish men and attack the consequences of sin. Although he explains in a discussion of Romans 13.1–7 that secular government is instituted by God, he does not say, like Luther, that God uses secular government to act in the world. The reason for this is that while Luther sought to strengthen princely government, Zwingli was trying to protect many of the traditional rights of church leaders. Nevertheless, he did see the secular government as having a parallel if somewhat less-important role. They were established to prevent those behaviors that are forbidden by God’s Word. 262

9780567033604_Ch15_Final_txt_print.indd 262

12/19/2000 10:04:16 AM

Political Theology in the Reformation

Here we begin to see the major difference between Zwingli’s conception of political theology and that of Luther’s. While the Wittenberg reformer stressed the duty to prevent a sinner from perpetuating his sinful ways (the prevention of which could obviously take many different forms), Zwingli offered a subtly different guiding principle for government’s action: the Word of God. On a purely pragmatic level, Luther did not believe that a government needed God’s revealed Word (the Bible) to do its work. The behaviors that it forbid are embodied in Natural Law and are therefore available to all human beings regardless of religion—for example, Luther believed that all human cultures and religions forbid things like murder and theft. Zwingli, however, did look to Scripture to discern what a government was to prevent and thereby moved beyond Natural Law to revealed law. This subtle change in the locus of a government’s authority can have rather profound implications, however. For to prevent all that is against God’s Word can quickly be read the other way around: to promote all that is required by God’s will and Word. Therefore, the Zurich Reformation was sometimes seen as “gesetzlich” (legalistic) by those in Wittenberg because they used the Bible to guide legislation and the administration of judicial punishments. Ironically, the Reformation model that started with a hierarchical distinction between Godly and human justice made the latter the earthy executor of God’s will. Not surprisingly, one could ask if Zwingli did not make the church even more dependent upon temporal authority. An example of this can be seen in some of his later writings and actions where, as Leutpriester (People’s Pastor) of Zurich, it is clear that he understands himself to be a part of the political interests of the community of Zurich. Indeed, the Zurich community over time came to the belief that they had to represent God’s will on earth. This was enforced by temporal powers who made the citizens of Zurich obey human justice, and, in this, indirectly, follow God’s Law. The pastors of Zurich played an important role in this organization of the community. A prime example of the ways in which pastors aided in the social control of the city’s inhabitants is their use of the Zurich marriage court, which undertook the authority to supervise and regulate large portions of the community’s family life. Urban reformation as seen in Zurich was certainly not unique. Rather, most of the imperial cities in southern Germany tended to understand the civil community as a Christian one, and, inspired by this, gave urban councils a strong role in the administration and embodiment of God’s will here on earth. John Calvin, inspired by his experiences at Strasbourg, selected this model and brought it to its most thorough embodiment when he was the leader of the church in Geneva. Calvin also provides a clear explanation of this model of Christian and governmental cooperation in his Institutes of the Christian Religion. In the last edition of this work (in 1559), Calvin discusses civil government in Book IV, chapter 20. It is the final chapter of the entire Institutes. 263

9780567033604_Ch15_Final_txt_print.indd 263

12/19/2000 10:04:16 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

In order to understand this section of the Institutes, it is important to recognize that the audience here is a bit different from the one to which Zwingli was responding. The Zurich reformer was still in a struggle mainly with the authorities of the old church, Calvin fought against what is often called “the left wing” of the Reformation. These more radical reformers believed that a Christian society should and could be able to rule its affairs without any government or power. Calvin, along with many other reformers—including Luther and Melanchthon in Wittenberg and Bucer in Strasbourg, viewed this belief as both naïve and dangerous. Thus, in Institutes IV.20, Calvin provides a strong theological basis for the temporal government. As in Luther and Zwingli, even an unjust government deserves obedience. However, an unjust government is not the norm. For Calvin, the norm was a Christian government. Such a government ought to be aware of the fact that it is instituted by God Himself. The governing authority sits in God’s place and rules with His authority. This makes it responsible for both tables of the Law (i.e., both sides of the Ten Commandments: those that cover our relationship with God and those that govern our life in the human community). What this means is that one cannot reduce a government’s duties just to the ruling of human belongings or community. Rather, the government has also to help ensure that the community serves God righteously. Philip Melanchthon has a somewhat similar concept in his Loci Communes where he describes civil government as the custodia utriusque tabulae (guardian of both tables of the Law). However, Calvin’s model is more homogenous than the Lutheran theory of politics. Calvin begins his reflections on government by discerning spiritual and temporal government but he consistently aims at finding a common basis for government in both religious and civil affairs. This implies a deeper theological understanding of government than in the Lutheran model. In essence, Calvin says that there is a double commandment of love that binds the two tables of the Law in the actions of a Christian governor: His duty in the religious field is to ensure that the honor of God is properly maintained. When one turns to civil affairs one can also see a deeper role for the government than the one described in Wittenberg. In this model, the actions of the government and laws in civil affairs should be oriented by the binding of love. So, the government’s obligations consist of more than just controlling sin and organizing outer affairs. Rather, from this perspective, the institution of government by God as expressed in Romans 13. 1–7 gives positive duties to the government to shape and model a Christian society. Thus the government does more than just limit malfeasance, it helps embody piety. Building a holistic Christian community therefore is expressed not only by preaching the Gospel but also by leading people through an overtly Christian government. This ideal gave a special shape to the Reformed churches that followed Calvin and saw a strong interrelationship between temporal and spiritual fields. Examples of 264

9780567033604_Ch15_Final_txt_print.indd 264

12/19/2000 10:04:16 AM

Political Theology in the Reformation

this integration can be found in religious communities in the Netherlands in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and perhaps most clearly in the Puritan communities of Colonial New England.

Rural Context When Reformation ideas migrated to the countryside, people there tried to relate it to their social existence. The process of assessing the reception of the Reformation among rural populations is quite difficult, but Peter Blickle is correct when he says that we have to understand rural thinking as a special type of theology and free it from a long-held view that the reception of the Reformation among the largely agrarian populace is a fundamental misunderstanding of Luther’s message; in his words: as making Christian liberty too worldly. Indeed, it was this social context that helped form revolutionary ideas among rural peasants. Their demand for freedom and better economic circumstances was older than the Reformation. Revolts and uprisings among peasants occurred across many different regions of Europe in the late Middle Ages.10 In the sixteenth century, the Reformation seemed to offer the peasants an idea that overrode all the earthly boundaries that demarcated social status and standing: the idea of Christian liberty. They found this idea very exciting. They were not, it should be added, completely without justification in applying Luther’s concept of Christian liberty to their own earthly existence. Luther himself, indeed, had not always used the term “liberty” in ways that are either completely clear or solely in a theological sense. For example, he connected the idea of Christian liberty to his call for a “free council,” which would consider religious reform. Similarly, he combined the message of liberty with the demand for reforming the church by secular authorities. But even if Luther himself did not want to walk the short distance that lies between theological insights and political activities, the world of ideas certainly allows the possibility to combine what Luther quite clearly wanted to separate. Thus, the peasants did not simply misunderstand him. Rather, what we see in their texts and in their actions is something like a productive reception of Reformation ideas as it applies to their special social context. Perhaps the clearest example of this is the so-called Twelve Articles of the Peasants, which combined the demand for free preaching with demands for freeing them from servitude.11 Accordingly, what we see here is another way of understanding political theology. This perspective is different from the ways described above. It does not share the common conviction of Luther and Melanchthon as well as Zwingli and Calvin that one must properly discern the spiritual and the temporal impact of the bible. Indeed, if we say that Luther set forth a view that strongly discerned the differences between theology and politics, the 265

9780567033604_Ch15_Final_txt_print.indd 265

12/19/2000 10:04:16 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

peasants might be exponents of its complete counterpart: creating a homogenous model that makes the Gospel the direct foundation for political concepts. Obviously, this is a concept developed in their own context to meet their own interests, and Luther blamed them for identifying God’s Gospel with human will. There may be cause for agreeing with Luther in this charge, but it is also important to recognize that neither Luther nor Melanchthon nor Calvin developed their understanding of politics and theology in a purely theoretical world. They, too, reacted to their own quite different political and social circumstances. The peasants did so too. It is this context that helps explain their turn to violence. Violence was, of course, not the entire focus of their political theology but violence was a consequence of the real distribution of power in the late medieval world. The peasants lived in a world where they were denied many basic rights that people today take for granted. They were economically and socially dependent upon those who controlled their lives and their ability to eke out an existence. It was their turn to violence that completely discredited them in the eyes of Martin Luther. He saw any revolt against the God-established governance as illegitimate. However, there was one theologian who gave strong theological support to the use of violence as a means to a pure theological end: Thomas Müntzer. After having been fully disappointed by the princes of Saxony he looked for other fighters on behalf of God’s will; he found them after a visit to the southwest of Germany: the peasants. As he became one of their leaders, he combined his own call for godly purity with their calls for a more equitable social organization. His apocalyptic worldview perceived the peasants and himself as God’s judges of a corrupt and unjust world embodied in profligate church officials and greedy social elites. Further, he believed that God put him in charge of freeing his people. In this view, we can see that Müntzer also has a theology that sees God acting in the social world. He understood men as God’s instruments called to fulfill the divine will. He differed from Luther (or Calvin for that matter) in the degree to which he understood violence as an appropriate tool in the fulfillment of this cause. Luther and Calvin also allowed for political violence but it was always in the hands of the government rather than the populace. The government punished the thief or murderer not the mob.

Shaping a New Community The theories seen thus far have been models that seek to explain current political reality and to reshape it. There was, however, a movement that understood social reality as a part of the world that had to be overthrown, and so began new social communities as alternatives to the given world. In some

266

9780567033604_Ch15_Final_txt_print.indd 266

12/19/2000 10:04:16 AM

Political Theology in the Reformation

respect, one could count Müntzer among these, or, even more so, Andreas Karlstadt. Karlstadt was a member of the theology faculty at the University of Wittenberg. Early on, he differed with Luther about the speed and degree with which the Reformation ought to lead to transform Church and society. Disappointed by his failure to win over Wittenberg to his cause, he then tried to establish a godly city in Orlamünde after he left Wittenberg in 1523. No longer Dr. Karlstadt, as simply “Brother Andy,” he stood among those that sought to establish new rules and behaviors for the Christian community of Orlamünde. His experiment in Orlamünde lasted just a short time. He was suspected of being a revolutionary and was forced to leave Saxony. A more lasting attempt to establish an alternative society can be seen in the Anabaptists.12 In 1526, Balthasar Hubmaier came to Nikolsburg in Moravia. It had no strong central power, and was led by some lower nobles. Here, Balthasar Hubmaier established an Anabaptist community; however, in 1527, Ferdinand of Austria imprisoned him, and in 1528 he was executed. But the idea of an alternative society continued, mainly in Moravia. Jakob Hutter founded another community, which flourished for some time with the support of the local nobility.

Conclusion To consider political theology in the Reformation era means that from the very first one seeks nothing other than a contextual type of theology. Reflection on politics means to reflect on the world as it is and perhaps how it ought to be. So, the various types of political theology depend on the social and political environment in which it finds its expression. From a theological perspective, these different types not only represent different contexts but also different solutions for the problem of the relationship between Gospel, law, and politics. In the peasants and the Anabaptists, one sees models that tend to narrow politics and the biblical Word of God. They look for a social model that establishes a direct realization of God’s will. Other predominant models, Lutheran and Reformed, always start by differentiating temporal and spiritual affairs, which corresponds to their theological understanding of the human condition, where man can be seen as both outer and inner man. The Lutheran way tends to stress this distinction more than the Reformed does. But both give strong support to the earthly government to rule in obedience to God. The central focus for all of them was the institution of government by God himself: a biblical assumption that fits easily to the self-understanding of a predemocratic state. The hermeneutical challenge in modern times is how these basic ideas must and can be transformed in the context of modern republicanism and democracy.

267

9780567033604_Ch15_Final_txt_print.indd 267

12/19/2000 10:04:16 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Bibliography Blickle, Peter. Kommunalismus. Skizzen einer gesellschaftlichen Organisationsform. München: R. Oldenbourg, 2000. Duchrow, Ulrich. Christenheit und Weltverantwortung. Traditionsgeschichte und systematische Struktur der Zwei-Reiche-Lehre. Stuttgart: Klett, 1983. Härle, Wilfried. “Luthers Zwei-Regimenten-Lehre als Lehre vom Handeln Gottes.” Marburger Jahrbuch Theologie, 1 (1987): 12–32. Heckel, Johannes. “Im Irrgarten der Zwei-Reiche-Lehre. Zwei Abhandlungen zum Reichs- und Kirchenbegriff Martin Luthers.” München: TEH 55 (1957). —. Lex charitatis. Eine juristische Untersuchung über das Recht in der Theologie Martin Luthers, München 1953 (Abhandlungen der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Philosophisch-historische Klasse. N.F. 36). Höpfl, Harro. The Christian Polity of John Calvin. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982. Kingdon, Robert. “Kirche und Obrigkeit.” In Herman J. Selderhuis (ed.), Calvin Handbuch, 349–55. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008. Lau, Franz. Luthers Lehre von den beiden Reichen. Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1952. Leppin, Volker. “Das Gewaltmonopol der Obrigkeit: Luthers sogenannte ZweiReiche-Lehre und der Kampf zwischen Gott und Teufel.” In Andreas Holzem (Hg.), Krieg und Christentum. Religiöse Gewalttheorien in der Kriegserfahrung des Westens (Krieg in der Geschichte 50). Paderborn u.a. 2009. Locher, Gottfried W. “Zwinglis Politik —Gründe und Ziele.” ThZ, 36 (1980): 84–102. Mantey, Volker. Zwei Schwerter—Zwei Reiche. Martin Luthers Zwei-Reiche-Lehre vor ihrem spätmittelalterlichen Hintergrund. Tübingen: 2005 (Spätmittelalter und Reformation 26). Nygren, Anders. “Luthers Lehre von den zwei Reichen.” Theologische Literaturzeitung, 74 (1949): 1–8. Packull, Werner O. Hutterite Beginnings. Communitarian Experiments during the Reformation. Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995. Rich, Arthur. “Zwingli als sozialpolitischer Denker.” Zwingliana, 13/1 (1969): 67–89. Schrey, Heinz-Horst (ed.). “Reich Gottes und Welt. Die Lehre Luthers von den zwei Reichen.” Darmstadt, WdF 107 (1969). Seebaß, Gottfried. Müntzers Erbe. Werk, Leben und Theologie des Hans Hut. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verl.-Haus, 2002. Skinner, Quentin. The Foundations of Modern Political Thought. Vol. 1: Renaissance. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978. Stayer, James M. Anabaptists and the Sword. Lawrence, KS: Coronado Press, 1976. Törnvall, Gustaf. Geistliches und weltliches Regiment bei Luther. Studien zu Luthers Weltbild und Gesellschaftsverständnis, München 1947 (Forschungen zur Geschichte und Lehre des Protestantismus 10/2). Wingren, Gustaf. “Welt und Kirche unter Christus, dem Herrn.” Kerygma und Dogma, 3 (1957): 53–60.

268

9780567033604_Ch15_Final_txt_print.indd 268

12/19/2000 10:04:17 AM

16

Superstition, Magic, and Witchcraft during and after the Reformation Peter Maxwell-Stuart

It is often assumed that a decisive break can be seen in the intellectual history of modern Europe, that of the enlightenment. In relation to the occult sciences, however, this “break” is not much more than an illusion created by the sometimes willful misinterpretation of scholars who have disliked or been dismissive of the Middle Ages on the one hand, or who (perhaps unwittingly) have been influenced by the rabid anticlericalism and anti-Catholicism that so marred eighteenth- and nineteenth-century France and England, or who have wished rather too eagerly to dissociate the modern sciences from what are sometimes regarded as their embarrassingly superstitious beginnings. But it is clear that earlier periods operated within a quite different frame of mind. This not only took the existence of God for granted but also accepted as real the existence of a possible multiplicity of worlds (and therefore of their nonhuman inhabitants), which were either not material (in the sense that Earth and its inhabitants are material) or were not material at all and thus existed in some kind of spirit form incomprehensible to, or at least not easily apprehended by, humans. Given the reality of these multiplicities directed and ruled by God, it was logical to assume that they might on occasions interpenetrate, that if or when they did, both humans and nonhuman entities would be aware that such interpenetration had happened, and that they would regard these interpenetrative occasions as significant. The natural or material cosmos therefore teemed with possibilities and was abundant in forms and entities of various kinds, benevolent or maleficent or both, who together with humankind constituted the completeness of Creation, and whose appearances, operations, and effects upon Earth could be harnessed by humans to human benefit, or circumvented by appeal to God or to counter-entities, whose power or influence or inherent properties were sufficient to modify or obliterate the harm they might do.

269

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 269

12/19/2000 10:04:56 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Superstition In the sixteenth century, the word “superstition” meant something rather different from what it means to us, and superstition itself was accorded much greater importance and was given much greater emphasis than people give it now. Indeed, the Jesuit Martín Del Rio who published a comprehensive survey of the occult sciences, Investigations into Magic (1599–1600), dealt with superstition before he ventured into anything else. We may start with a tripartite division of the concept. There is a superstition that observes signs in Nature, such as the flight of birds or the color or phases of the moon, and interprets these with a view to modifying or changing one’s behavior. Then there is a superstition that deliberately calls upon signs one has created oneself, such as the cast of dice or sticks or the summoning of dead spirits, in order to ascertain the course of future events or obtain answers to specific questions. Finally, there is a superstition that relies for its effects upon manipulating perceived connections between the human and spirit worlds via channels such as amulets or incantations or ritual performance. All three presume the possibility of human–spirit interaction and all three seek to benefit from it. What makes these forms of superstition objectionable in the eyes of the Church (of whatever confession) is that they either do or may intrude upon the prerogative of God to know the future and to alter or suspend His natural laws, and that the humans involved in these practices may lay themselves open to being deluded or manipulated in their turn by entities hostile to their welfare. Del Rio’s discussion of superstition begins with Classical Latin’s understanding of the term, modified by contemporary theological definition, interpreting it as religious practice superfluous to what is necessary for genuinely devout worship of God, and thus as an inclination to credulousness rather than faith—a failure to distinguish between what is important in belief and worship, and what is of lesser weight or significance. From this sprang theologians’ disapproval of certain aspects of common general behavior, such as the tendency to impart to sacred objects or symbols a power beyond that which their status might reasonably be expected to have: copying words from the Gospel of St John, for example, to use as a protective amulet against disease or witchcraft or assault by preternatural beings, or employing the Bible itself in magical rites to discover the name of a thief. In 1575 the Danish Lutheran theologian, Niels Hemmingsen, published an essay on the avoidance of superstitions. He held that all magical effects—or all effects intended to be achieved by any form of magic—were equally impious and condemnable, and his short treatise dismisses not only all the popular uses of divination, or incantation accompanied by words and gestures, but even apparently harmless tricks produced by sleight of hand.

270

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 270

12/19/2000 10:04:56 AM

Superstition, Magic, and Witchcraft

But it was also said that, far from being associated with excessive devotion or religiosity, superstition might also be equated with lack of religion (by which sixteenth-century theologians meant lack of Christianity), and so the word could be, and often was, used as a term of disapprobation of other religions or confessions—a usage inherited from classical authors and applied to the contemporary world. Thus, Protestants accused Catholicism of being a religion based on and redolent of superstition, while Catholics accused the various versions of Protestantism of perverting the truth of Christianity and harboring agents of Satan. Here, of course, we have entered the realm of confessional propaganda, but we should not run away with the idea that one confession was more or less superstitious than the other: it is not difficult to show that both parties frequently shared an identical mindset when it came to signs, wonders, divination, and magic, not to mention astrology and alchemy, too. Nor (we should note) did either confession suggest that superstition was irrational: foolish, misguided, sinful, wicked, vile, diabolically inspired, certainly, but not irrational, and therefore those who fell prey to its attractions could be advised or taught out of its perverted rationality of faith, and brought (or disciplined) back to the proper rationality of true religion and proper worship.1

Signs and Wonders What, then, was this mindset shared by both Catholics and Protestants, high and low status, rich and poor, learned and unlettered alike? It was one that experienced the world as a series of interconnecting networks, some overt, such as family, friends, dependants, employees, or the Church in its local and hierarchical manifestations, and some whose connections were less obvious or even hidden, that is, “occult,” and yet whose influence upon everyday existence was no less immediate, important, and deeply felt. One of the most significant occult networks that bound together the material world people experienced through their physical senses and the worlds of preter-Nature composed from matter of a different order from that of Earth, inhabited by spirits, fairies, ghosts, demons, and the like (entities created by God but notably different from human beings), was a system of sympathy and antipathy whereby it was thought that everything was linked to everything else or repelled by it because of a perceived likeness or dissimilarity. Girolamo Cardano, for example, described correspondences between planets, colors, and tastes—black went with bitterness and Saturn, blue with saltiness and Mars, and so on. As the Jesuit Athanasius Kircher observed, as late as 1667, “the world is bound with secret knots.” Unexpectedness, too, had to be accounted for: the appearance of comets, the regular conjunctions of Jupiter and Saturn, pictures discernible in cloud formations, sounds from the sky at night were significant and needed 271

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 271

12/19/2000 10:04:56 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

interpretation. Unusual births in humans or animals conveyed messages to humans, from God or from Satan, and large numbers of pamphlets with accompanying woodcuts distributed the message and confirmed the inclination to see such things as bridging the supernatural and natural worlds. Occult messages, of course, frequently gave notice of future events, and here again there were various channels through which that notice could be conveyed to human beings. The future could make itself seen or heard in dreams, for example, dreams being a potent channel whereby an individual could be enabled to leave the physical world and enter others in which, if not omniscience (which belongs to God alone), at least hidden knowledge could be obtained and therefore passed on when the dreamer awoke from sleep. Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa, a German physician and occultist, wrote, “By ‘dream’ I mean something which proceeds from the visionary spirit and the intellect mutually united; or via the illumination of the intellect acting beyond our soul; or through the undiluted revelation of some divine being after the mind has been cleansed and is tranquil. From this our soul receives genuine prophecies and furnishes us with an abundance of predictions.” Hence people often reported dreams and took note of them as, for example, did the Protestant theologian, Ludwig Lavater, whose Phantasms, Malevolent Ghosts and Loud, Unusual Disturbances (1575) gave its readers an immensely varied picture of supernaturally and preternaturally inspired visions, and explained not only that they were authentic experiences, but also why God permitted such things to happen. Luther worried that dreams and visions might originate with Satan, a possibility that Catholic authorities also considered, as can be seen from the records of the Inquisition, which relate the dreams of Lucrecia de León from 1587 until 1590, disturbing visions warning about the defeat of the armada to be sent against the English, the death of King Philip II, Turkish armies in Constantinople, her own personal meeting with the Devil, and Moors invading Navarre, altogether constituting an extraordinary collection of truths, half-truths, apocalyptic images, and personal experience, which were taken seriously enough to have her put on trial as a potentially dangerous prophet. When it comes to dreams and prophecies, however, one name eclipses all others, Michel de Nostredame (Nostradamus). In recent times, he has given rise to an interpretational industry attributing the most remarkable foresight to the 942 quatrains of his book, The Prophecies, which was published in Lyon in 1555. In his own time he was best known as a compiler of almanacs, a physician, and a Court astrologer, often in danger of arrest for heterodox, not to say heretical opinions, and yet always in demand from royalty and nobility for his astrological skills. His prophetic gifts, however, came not from the stars or planets, but out of a trance-like state in which he either experienced broken images or was able to record them only as well as his post-visionary 272

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 272

12/19/2000 10:04:56 AM

Superstition, Magic, and Witchcraft

awareness would allow. The opening quatrain of the Prophecies describes, in Nostradamus’s customary elliptical style, how he received his visions. Being seated at night in secret study, alone, supported on a seat of bronze. A tiny flame coming out of the solitude makes successful that which it is not foolish to believe. The rod in hand put in the middle of the BRANCHES. With water he moistens both the hem and the foot. A fear and a voice, shivering through the sleeves. Divine radiance. The divinity sits nearby. But Nostradamus was by no means unique, and with the apocalypse expected imminently, large numbers of men and women, each claiming a special revelation of some kind, were to be found swarming all over Europe, or disturbing convents with their reports of dreams and visions, both before and after the reformation movements. One example from the second half of the sixteenth century is Madre Zuana, known as the Venetian Virgin, who prophesied that the reformation of the world would begin in Venice, the Turks would be converted, and all sinners would be restored to a pre-lapsarian condition of innocence. Another is a French Humanist Dionisio Gallo, who claimed to have been chosen by God to reform the Church and society, and turned up at various royal and ducal courts in France and Italy, often drawing large crowds, proclaiming his unorthodox messages to the notable tolerance of those authorities he was hoping to reform. Both he and Madre Zuana said they had been inspired by personal visions: Dionisio by the Virgin Mary, Madre Zuana by Christ Himself. Neither of them, it should be said, was a particularly unusual phenomenon at this time, and both were heard by audiences, lettered and unlettered, which were well attuned to the notion of the possible validity of visions and non-earthly visitations.2 Astrology If signs and wonders were able to convey messages to human beings from supernatural or preternatural entities, there were also techniques in popular use that allowed humans to see into the past and the future. The sieve and scissors provided a common method for detecting the name of a thief or obtaining a simple “yes” or “no” to a straightforward question. (One arm of a pair of open scissors was stuck into the rim of the sieve, the operator supported scissors and sieve by one finger, and everyone waited for the sieve to start swinging or making significant movements when the name of the guilty person was said aloud.) Opening the Bible at random and reading the first verse to catch one’s eye was held to be one way to obtain a prophecy; mirrors were used for scrying; pre-pubertal children had oil poured into their palms to serve a similar purpose. But if such devices can be called “popular,” in the sense that they could be used by anyone regardless of education or social status, astrology 273

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 273

12/19/2000 10:04:57 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

was a science reserved largely for those with at least a minimum of schooling. The complex demands made on a practitioner’s mathematical abilities, not to mention his or her literacy, meant that most of its more respectable manifestations were left in the hands of learned or at least semi-learned professionals, not just astrologers but also physicians and alchemists, who were obliged to make full use of astrology in their separate disciplines. Astronomy and astrology were two sides of the same coin, the differences between them being minimal—the former studied the movements of heavenly bodies, the latter interpreted the possible significances of those movements— and many people practised both with equanimity. Tycho Brahe, for example, best known these days as an astronomer, was happy to defend the validity of astrology in lectures to the University of Copenhagen in 1574, and Johann Kepler wrote a defence of the interconnection between astrology and medicine in his The More Assured Bases of Astrology (1602). There was more than one type of astrology. Horary astrology dealt with questions relating to the present or immediate future, and depended on charts of the heavens (horoscopes) drawn up to represent the sky at the time the question was asked. Genethliacal astrology, by contrast, was based on horoscopes showing the heavens at the moment the questioner was born, and so claimed to give some indication of the principal features of his or her character, and the likely sequence of events in his or her life resulting from a disposition influenced by the astral conjunctions and patterns evident from the querant’s personal horoscope. As Kepler put it, “A human being’s nature at the beginning of life receives not only an instantaneous image of the sky, but also its motion . . . and derives from this motion the way in which it will discharge this or that humour.” It was “judicial” astrology, however, which sought to deliver predictive judgment on the course of human affairs, that caused heated argument since it might be seen to clash with the Church’s teaching on free will; when people endeavored to cast Jesus’ horoscope, as several did, and thereby gain extra insights into His nature, there were many who considered that the science had crossed a line and strayed into blasphemy. Calvin hated judicial astrology and wrote an essay against it in 1549, calling it “a Satanic superstition,” thus finding himself in agreement with Giovanni Pico della Mirandola who had published a highly influential and similarly hostile treatise just over 50 years earlier, in 1496; while in January 1586, Pope Sixtus V issued a Bull not only condemning those who practised judicial astrology, but also those who read books on the subject, or had such books in their possession. Melanchthon, however, was entirely in favor and published a defence of the science in Fundamentals of Natural Science (1549), and Girolamo Cardano, perhaps the most outstanding mathematician of his day, wrote several books explaining, illustrating, and defending “the most noble of all the arts which teaches us how to predict.” 274

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 274

12/19/2000 10:04:57 AM

Superstition, Magic, and Witchcraft

In spite of opposition, therefore, astrology had its learned apologists and advocates, and because of the assumption that sympathies and antipathies were spread throughout the created universe and bound everything in an occult nexus, astrology not only played a vital role in certain types of magic but also in medicine. Since parts of the body were under the direct influence of certain groups of stars or individual planets, in the event of a disjunction or injury, they could be treated by herbs, minerals, or amulets that had an appropriate relationship with the dysfunctional member. Thus the famous German physician and alchemist Paracelsus: Make from the finest lead a round lamen in the hour of Venus, when the Moon is in the sign Aries. In the hour of Venus likewise, engrave the signs and letters. Then in the hour of Saturn make a copper lamen of the same weight and shape as the leaden one. When the Moon is in the sign Capricorn, engrave the characters you see in the figures. Keep both figures until Mars comes into conjunction with Saturn and then, at the point of this conjunction, put the two lamens together so that their characters and signs are touching. Then enclose them in wax to keep out moisture, sew them into a piece of silk, and hang this round the patient’s neck on the day and in the hour of Mercury. This is the best remedy for recovering the eyesight, and for protecting the eyes from pain and disease. It also preserves the sight in old age, keeping it as perfect as it was when the patient was young.3 Magic This brings us directly to the topic of magic, which may be said to fall into four general categories: “natural,” “ritual,” “popular,” and “demonic,” the last of which can be, and was regarded as including “witchcraft.” The first two are perhaps more closely allied, in as much as they tended to be practised by the learned, while the last two were used by everyone, learned and unlearned alike. But, that said, these divisions are entirely artificial, of course, and magic should really be seen as a continuum with such manifestations as “ritual” or “witchcraft” simply appearing at certain points along it: points, moreover, not static but capable of shifts sufficient to blur any over-rigid academic distinctions. Natural magic, as its name indicates, presumed that there are forces, laws, and energies in Nature that do not depend on nonhuman assistance to make them work, and which can be discovered by observation and experimentation. It had a most ancient history, too. Before his fall, observed Elias Ashmole in 1652, echoing much earlier writers, Adam was so absolute a philosopher that he possessed “the true and pure knowledge of Nature (which is no other than what we call Natural Magick) in the highest degree of perfection,” although 275

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 275

12/19/2000 10:04:57 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

this pure and true knowledge of Nature rested upon notions of cosmology that had been revived from late antiquity largely by Marsilio Ficino’s 1463 translation of a corpus of texts known collectively as the Hermetica. Therein it is explained that everything in the created material world resonates with powers streaming down to it from governing bodies such as stars and planets, as part of a great hierarchy of being, with God at its head and minerals at the bottom. Since the Hermetica were believed to be older even than Moses, their authority was immense. Natural magic, however, was not an appropriate pursuit for everyone. As Heinrich Agrippa said, Whoever wishes to study this faculty must be skilled in natural philosophy in which is to be found the qualities of things and the hidden properties of everything which exists. He must also be expert in mathematics, and in the aspects and figures of the stars, upon which depends the sublime virtue and property of everything; and in theology in which are manifested those immaterial substances which regulate and administer all things. Without these, he cannot possibly be able to understand the rationality of magic. Del Rio defined it as “simply a more precise knowledge of the secrets of Nature, such as the movement and influence of the heavens and the stars; sympathy and antipathy between particular things; when, where, and how things should be combined, and what extraordinary results can be achieved thereby, things which seem amazing, even miraculous, to the ignorant.” These “wonders” included clever prestidigitation or illusions: throwing a glass cup against a wall, breaking it, and picking it up whole again; making plants seem to grow before one’s eyes; making snakes appear among the rushes on the floor. Del Rio and other writers described these and many more. But while terms such as “wonders” and “miracles” appear in the literature, one must not misunderstand what they imply in this particular context. People at the time may have been astonished, but they were well aware they were watching what we would call “conjuring-tricks.” Natural magic, then, was largely study for the learned, and Agrippa’s mention of theology in connection with it brings us to “ritual” magic, an attempt to achieve something like mystical illumination by ceremonial means, an endeavor to do rather more than simply contemplate the hidden powers of Nature and use them for practical or diverting purposes, but rather on the one hand to call down powerful spirits into the physical world so that they could be interrogated and thus enlarge the knowledge of the interrogating magician, or to precipitate the magician, whether in body or spirit, into spirit worlds where his—and this kind of magic was invariably practised by men—experience of 276

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 276

12/19/2000 10:04:57 AM

Superstition, Magic, and Witchcraft

worlds and states beyond the physical and material could be increased to his own and others’ benefit. John Dee, who had no personal gift for seeing spirits but employed a number of mediums or “scryers” to see and talk to them on his behalf, is one of the best-known examples of the first type of ritual magician. His procedure, which he followed over many years both in England and in Prague, was first to offer a fervent prayer for divine guidance and protection, and then to allow his scryer to look into the polished surface of a stone or crystal and report aloud and in detail what he saw. Dee himself sat in a corner of the room and acted as secretary, writing down what the scryer reported. Nonhuman entities of bewildering variety were seen and heard, entering into conversation with Dee via his medium and answering (though not always clearly) his questions about their world and others. They even transmitted an angelic language whose alphabet, vocabulary, and grammar Dee laboriously transcribed: a language whose principal use for Dee was to summon other spirits in a tongue they would understand. Since Dee was highly regarded as a scholar, what did he intend by these practices? The sixteenth century saw the burgeoning of convictions among all kinds of people that they were witnessing the last days, and that soon Christ would come again and initiate the judgment of souls and the reign of God. Reading the Book of Nature, that is, understanding what God had intended for Creation before it was defiled by sinful humankind, was an essential preliminary to the restitution of all things in preparation for the Second Coming. In consequence, drawing closer to the mind of God by whatever means were available would make His intentions clearer and thus facilitate human comprehension of His will. Once such clarification was obtained, humankind would benefit both intellectually and spiritually, and so prepare itself better for the apocalyptic upheaval that was to come. As far as Dee was concerned, therefore, his conversations with spirits presented him with a kind of divine commission—indeed, he was so far emboldened by them as to rebuke the Holy Roman Emperor to his face, and urge him to stop being sinful—and a duty to use the esoteric knowledge he gained thereby for the betterment of his fellow human beings.4 A more sinister form of ritual magic was necromancy. The dead were as much a part of any community as the living and could appear, speak, make signs, convey messages, ask for prayers, instruct the living to right wrongs left behind by the deceased, and warn the living to amend their way of life. Even Protestants, for whom appearances of the dead were theologically unlikely— Purgatory played no part in Protestant confessions, and thus only Heaven or Hell remained as dwelling places for souls in the afterlife, neither of which the dead could leave save in exceptional circumstances with God’s permission—in practice admitted and reported such visitations. Necromancers were 277

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 277

12/19/2000 10:04:57 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

thus able, in theory, to summon up the dead and question them in whatever way they wished. Del Rio dismissed the notion that this was possible unless God was willing to allow it, and in general dismissed necromancers’ claims as fraudulent. Paracelsus allied ghostly appearances to the effect of certain stars. Necromancy draws its signs from the stars of death called Evestra . . . . When the stars of necromancy are moved, the dead exhibit some extraordinary sign: for example, bleeding or voices which are heard coming from the grave. The dead appear in the shape and dress of the living; they are seen in visions, mirrors, beryls, stones, water and various other objects. Evestra give their signs by heating, striking, knocking, falling, throwing; and when one hears an immense racket and noise, but sees nothing, all, this is a certain sign of death foretold to the person in whose likeness the spirits appear, or to those who hear them. One important constituent of ritual magic was a Jewish mystical system known as Kabbalah, parts of which had been given Christian reinterpretation during the late fifteenth century. Derived from the notion that ten powers of God, called sephiroth, emanated into the cosmos (which is in fact an external manifestation of those powers), Kabbalah, as developed in Spain and later by Neoplatonists in Italy, proposed that the sephiroth could be arranged, for contemplative and magical purposes, into a specific structure called “The Tree of Life,” and that these sephiroth were linked with the ten spheres of the cosmos—those of the seven planets, the fixed stars, and the two spheres beyond. Twenty-two “pathways” between the sephiroth corresponded to the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet, and so manipulation of these letters according to their various pathways enabled the Kabbalist to produce the names of powerful angels, who could then be invoked as a way of assisting the Kabbalist to draw near to the very presence of God Himself. Johannes Reuchlin (1455–1522), one of the foremost classical scholars of his day and someone who revolutionized the study of Hebrew in Europe with the publication of a Hebrew grammar in 1506, wrote a detailed account of the system in 1517 in which he suggested that Kabbalah proved the truth of Christianity. He was joined in this increasingly magical Christian esotericism by Pico della Mirandola, Johann Trithemius, and Heinrich Agrippa, all of whom wedded magic to religion by showing or maintaining that Kabbalah could be used to open paths into spirit or angelic worlds, a proposition that Dee’s many sessions with his scryers appeared to verify. The obvious problem with this lay in its tacit trust that the entities contacted by such means might turn out to be demons rather than angels, a possibility the Church took as a probability in spite of the best efforts of Kabbalah’s 278

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 278

12/19/2000 10:04:57 AM

Superstition, Magic, and Witchcraft

leading proponents to persuade otherwise. “The Kabbalistic arts always tend to people’s salvation, whereas on the contrary, the poisonous working of magical illusion slopes downward towards perdition,” wrote Johannes Reuchlin. “The latter acts by means of names of darkness, ignorance, and evil spirits; the former, by names of light and of blessed angels.” This type of magical practice, however, was clearly always on the verge of turning into the idolatry theologians tended to see lurking beneath the surface of even the most apparently harmless “superstition.” In consequence, attacks from both Catholic and Protestant authorities upon the culture of deliberately contacting nonhuman entities with a view to using their powers for personal benefit were both deeply felt and (for the most part) sincerely intended to rescue souls deemed to be in peril. These attacks, logically enough, did not stop at the refinements. Magic as a whole was regarded with profound suspicion, and this included the “popular” variety. By “popular,” I mean that magic which was used by anyone and everyone in everyday circumstances with a view to achieving an immediate wish or solving an immediate problem. Jacques Grévin (1538–70), author of a book on poisons and poisonous magic, summarized various possibilities. Those who have written at length on occult philosophy say that people are captured by the power of . . . spells, either because of love or because of hate, and fall either into illness or into some kind of emotional condition. This happens in very many ways: through poisons accompanied by words, through slaves, unguents, potions, amulets tied to the body, charms hung round the neck, rings, spells, strong imaginations, images, characters, incantations, curses, lights, sounds, numbers, words, names, invocations, sacrifices, adjurations, exorcisms, consecrations, devotions, and various superstitious ceremonies in which the common people puts its untutored trust. In his Bull of 1586, Pope Sixtus V was even more detailed and explicit: There are certain people—either mad and meddlesome or impious and irreligious—who take such pains to attain knowledge of the future and other hidden things that they offend, many times, against the law of God because of their investigations and attempts to know things beforehand. Some of them are not afraid to employ geomancy, hydromancy, aeromancy, pyromancy, onomancy, chiromancy, or necromancy, and do so by means of a secret partnership with evil spirits, or a tacit pact between them. They may also cast dice, grains of wheat or beans, in unlawful attempts to foretell what is to come. Others cling on to relics of the age-old worship of the ancient gods, which has now been overthrown by the victory of the 279

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 279

12/19/2000 10:04:57 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Cross, and with the help of certain auguries, auspices, and similar signs and meaningless rites exert themselves to divine the future. But there are others who make a treaty with death and a pact with Hell. These, in a similar attempt to divine hidden things, find treasure, or commit other criminal acts, openly make a pact with the Devil, to the obvious destruction of their souls, and employ the wicked incantations of the art of magic, magical apparatus, and magical poisons. They draw circles and devilish characters. They invoke evil spirits, or consult them, seek or receive responses from them, offer them prayers, incense, or the fumigations of other aromatic substances, make sacrifices of some sort, burn candles, sacrilegiously misuse sacred objects, sacraments, or the ceremonies of the Church, offer them worship and genuflect to them, along with all kinds of other impious rituals, and pay them devotion and veneration. They make, or get someone else to make, little bottles in which to enclose evil spirits. These spirits they bind to their wishes, so they think, in order to seek and receive responses to their questions. Others direct their questions about future or hidden things or hidden deeds to evil spirits which have occupied the bodies of distraught and frenzied women. The result is what one might expect: the spirits (which our Lord in the Gospel ordered to be silent) give idle, lying replies. Other tricksters, quite often women given up to superstitious practices, seek the future in bottles or little glass jars full of water, or in a mirror. By the light of burning, blessed candles they worship and supplicate the Devil, sower of all evils, under the guise of a holy, white angel; or they seek the future by anointing the fingernails or the palm of the hand with oil and looking there. They beg that same Architect of Deception to show them the future or whatever is hidden, by making ghosts and images or imagined visions appear to them; or they seek the truth about the future and hidden matters through that same Father of Lies by means of other incantations and various superstitious ceremonies, and so try to foretell it to other people. But what lay behind these seemingly endless varieties of magical behavior? Pope Sixtus suggested it was unlawful curiosity to know the future. The latefifteenth-century Italian poet, Pietro Angelo Manzoli, suggested it might be a combination of latent paganism and power. Some people think that this world is full of gods and that many of them spend their lives in the expansive reaches of the air. . . . According to their inclination, they bestow good things or bad, honours, joys, riches, and their opposites. Therefore it is well worth one’s while to please them in whatever 280

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 280

12/19/2000 10:04:57 AM

Superstition, Magic, and Witchcraft

way one can. Some people think this is done by means of rituals and chants and the art of magic, and (it is said) the spirits appear to us when invoked in due ritual fashion, and answer our prayers. . . . There are those, however, who believe that among these spirits are some which are evil and which obey evil people, constrained thereto by magical incantations, and that by means of this pact a great many loathsome things are done. The Catholic and Protestant churches were in full agreement on these points. “Any man or woman,” wrote Pedro Cirvelo in his widely read Condemnation of Superstitions and Witchcrafts (c.1530), “who seeks a cure through spells tacitly accepts a return to health with the help of the Devil, and thus makes a pact of friendship with the enemy of God and humankind,” while in 1565, the Lutheran Conrad Platz was of the opinion that devout Christians “should prefer a thousand times to be ill and miserable in God, than to be bright and healthy with the Devil, to die in God, than to survive with the Devil, to have sick horses, oxen and sheep or to have none at all, than to have strong, healthy, well-made horses and other beasts with the Devil’s help and by means of devilish conjurations and blessings.”5 The key word, overt or tacit, in these admonitions is “pact” and this brings us to demonic magic or “witchcraft,” as it was commonly designated. It was always difficult, even with respect to natural magic, to accept that practitioners of magic, whatever their motives, kind or unkind, believed they could manage to achieve their results without the aid of entities other than human. Religion provided well-tested and legitimate channels through which divine, angelic, or spiritual assistance could flow to human beings. Therefore it was considered both unnecessary and superfluous (“superstitious”) to turn elsewhere for help, especially since that “elsewhere” involved beings that might well prove to be hostile to human souls and seek their ruin. But of course the very existence of such beings constituted a temptation that large numbers of people found irresistible; besides, it could be argued that the hundreds of simple behaviors everyone designated magical were in constant use without apparent harm and had the sanction of centuries of traditional practice behind them. Hence there was tension between the authorities who preached the dangers of such behaviors (but were often guilty of using them, just like everyone else) and the general populace who looked for practical answers to practical problems wherever they thought they could find them. This tension did not necessarily result in waves of prosecution. What made a notable difference to the degree of tension was the alliance of magic, especially demonic magic, with heresy during the fourteenth century. This alliance became axiomatic in the thinking of the succeeding centuries, and led to the growth of a widespread conviction during the sixteenth century that Satan had been let loose upon the world in preparation for the Last Days, and was 281

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 281

12/19/2000 10:04:57 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

taking the opportunity afforded by magic to insert himself or his demons into those channels of communication between Earth and the spirit worlds in order to seduce magical operators to help him in his destructive work. There were several ways he could do this. Creating illusions was one—the illusion that the human being was actually working the magic, whereas in fact the work was being done by a demon pretending to be the human’s servant. Another was the Sabbat. This involved the human being’s attending a convocation of demons or human agents of the Devil, where he or she—there was no particular imbalance between the sexes in this fantasy—renounced Christianity and made a pact with Satan to be his servant, after which the newly sworn witch feasted, took part in a sexual orgy, and was taught a variety of magical techniques. Lambert Daneau, a French Protestant minister, described the essentials in a short treatise, Workers of Poisonous Magic (1574). First of all Satan requires them to renounce plainly, freely and overtly, the true God, creator of all things and Lord of Heaven and Hell, and to serve him. He then tells them, without any dissimulation, that he is Satan. He says that in future they must hang on his will and nod of command, and lean on him for support. Once Satan has enslaved them in his foul way, he then marks them either with his teeth or with his hand. He urges them to say freely what they want him to do, and tells them the safest and most secret ways of avenging themselves on those they hate. For this purpose he gives them powders, roots and poisons—either handing these over himself, or getting others whom he has ready nearby to do it for him—so that witches may poison anyone they please without anxiety or fear of retribution . . . . When the witches are congregated, he appears to them, like the bishop of the assembly, in various guises. Sometimes he joins them under the form and appearance of a man: at others, in the shape of a loathsome goat. Everyone then repeats the oath she or he has sworn to him in which she or he promises to recognise him as God. They dance ensemble in front of him, or with great joy jig round him to the most disgusting refrains which they extemporise in his praise and honour. Once all this has been done, he asks them what they want from him now: what venom they lack for the poisoning of human beings. So each person lays bare her or his malign intention towards other people and Satan suggests a way whereby she or he can execute vengeance. He provides some of them with poisons he has prepared and confected, while teaching others how to make and blend them. To some he gives certain forms and characters, or certain words or ointments by whose power they may wish to discover or effect something in advance. 282

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 282

12/19/2000 10:04:57 AM

Superstition, Magic, and Witchcraft

In earlier centuries, the Church tended to dismiss the Sabbat, or at least the notion of flying to it, as demonic illusion. By the sixteenth century, however, while skepticism was not uncommon, there had grown a tendency to treat these details as largely factual, and to assume that even if witches were not necessarily recruited in the manner described by standard accounts of the Sabbat, Sabbats did take place and were attended by remarkable numbers of satanically inspired men and women. Here, then, we have the elements of a very potent conspiracy theory whose dramatic appeal to deep-seated emotions was later to have dire consequences in certain places in Europe: the authorities or the common people themselves launched prosecutions against those they saw as just such Satanic agents; prosecutions whose numbers occasionally turned them into pogroms that culled the innocent as well as the guilty. But we must be careful not to let ourselves be carried away. These pogroms were relatively few and far between. The majority of witch prosecutions involved a handful of individuals at most, and such prosecutions were not a continuous process in every country at all times, but rose and fell in frequency just like those of any other crime. It is thus easy to misapprehend the history of witchcraft during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The melodrama of and emotional reaction to the idea that large numbers of people were being put to death for actions the twenty-first century no longer regards as a crime can and do mislead. If one looks at the indictments of witches, male or female, to see what they were actually being accused of, certain general points (there are always exceptions), based on the accounts given by the accused of how they came to be witches, begin to emerge. They were met by someone, usually male, who seemed to listen to their troubles with a sympathetic ear. He offered a solution, sometimes in the form of money, which later turned out to be worthless, very often in the form of an offer of work as his servant. To signify acceptance, the man or woman had to renounce God/baptism/ the Virgin Mary and give everything to the Devil. At this point, or just after agreeing to do so, the human usually realized that the sympathetic man was actually Satan. The new recruit received a mark, mainly from the Devil’s taking a firm grip of her or him on the arm, shoulder, or neck. Descriptions of such a mark tend to suggest that it resembled an unusual kind of bruise. Sometimes the new devotee was introduced to a small company—the thirteen of a coven is a myth—which would meet fairly frequently, not always on set days, to drink or eat or to work harm against one individual or more. Such meetings, however, were not an invariable component 283

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 283

12/19/2000 10:04:57 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

of witches’ behavior, and scarcely any resembled the Sabbats of learned demonological discourse. Individual witches very often built up a clientele over many years. They were asked to cure illness in humans and farm animals, provide love magic, undo the magic of another, hostile witch, find out the identity of a thief, or work magical harm to someone against whom the client bore a grudge; and of course they might do any or all of these on their own account. The catch-all English word “witch” conceals a remarkable variety of types of demonic-magical practitioner, which is much clearer in the more extensive Latin vocabulary used by ecclesiastical and secular authorities. (I give these in their feminine form because more women than men were designated “witch.” All, however, have their masculine equivalents.) Saga: someone who “knows”—that is, knows the future, or knows the appropriate magical technique to deal with a problem. Sortilega: someone who throws then reads lots, bones, sticks, tokens, and so on, whose patterns reveal the future or the answer to a question. Sortiaria: a word originally of unknown meaning, which later became associated with sors (“lot”) and therefore turned into a variant of sortilega. Venefica: someone who makes poisons or works magic with the help of herbs, whose action may turn out to be dangerous or fatal. Fascinatrix: someone who bewitches another by means of the evil eye, that is, by glancing or staring and so transmitting from herself an innate evil that harms the one she looks at. Incantatrix: someone who chants. Her words may or may not be accompanied by ritual gestures. Strix (sometimes found as striga): someone who flies through the air like a bird of prey—strix originally being the Greek word for “owl” or “night bird” and hence a bird of ill omen. The strix was believed to suck the blood of children, like a vampire, while they were asleep. Lamia: someone who terrifies children and eats their flesh. Another borrowing from classical mythology. It is clear from these that the Latin terms convey three principal notions of this kind of magician: seeing into the future; providing answers to questions that are normally hidden from human cognition; bringing fear, physical harm, and death to human beings, particularly the vulnerable. The magic of witches thus falls into the category of “popular” rather than “natural” or “ritual.” Apart from those relatively uncommon confessions that conformed to the pattern of the Sabbat, one must see very many, if not most, trials of witches as attempts to punish actual sin committed partly by the witch herself and partly by her clients, and the occasions of sin with which such behaviors threatened the community. Pogroms, of course, were a different matter altogether, but they were the exception rather than the rule. In fact it was very often only chance that caused an accusation to be raised before ecclesiastical or secular authorities, and so brought the witch to court. It is 284

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 284

12/19/2000 10:04:58 AM

Superstition, Magic, and Witchcraft

frequently difficult to tell what that chance was: dissatisfaction at the outcome of a spell, sudden quarrels that came to a head in the accusation, attempts at ingratiation with the authorities—the motives are many and complex. It is also worth noting that, contrary to familiar assumptions, neither the Papacy nor the various Inquisitions were responsible for widespread witch prosecutions. Indeed, the Papacy often did its best to calm down overexcitement against witches, and the Inquisitions tended to be a good deal more skeptical of accusations of practising magic than many other sources of authority. In 1569, for example, the Roman Inquisition recommended that greater care be taken in witch trials, and in fact the last such accused were executed in Rome only three years later, in 1572. The calculable numbers of those legally executed for witchcraft are not anything as large as some extraordinary claims have maintained: perhaps 50,000 for the whole of Europe and Russia over a 300-year period, with half that number coming from the German states of the Holy Roman Empire, and a notable proportion of that number dating to the seventeenth century. Further, the result of a trial was not a foregone conclusion. Outside the peculiar and relatively uncommon circumstances of a pogrom, acquittals were very often obtained, so an accusation of witchcraft by no means involved an automatic death sentence. Indeed, it was said that during the reign of Duke Antoine I of Lorraine (1489–1544), more pigs and Protestants were executed than witches.6 The Reformation itself, in fact, provided little if any stimulus to any increase in the prosecution of witches; likewise the Counter-Reformation and the deeper tension between confessions after c.1560. More potent reasons for people’s increasing fears and consequent demands that something be done about Satan’s human agents were the agrarian crises of the later sixteenth century, the rapid spread of popular pamphlets retailing extraordinary events such as rains of blood or monstrous births, and the similar dissemination of a Protestant literature known as “Devil books,” which took Satan and his powers as their subject. All these combined to intensify the growing general conviction that the Last Days were imminent, a conviction that savage wars during the second half of the sixteenth century in Europe did nothing to diminish, since it seemed to be clear that Satan had been released from his thousand-year confinement, and that God was using him to punish and purify a sinful and recalcitrant humanity. The impetus to greater prosecution of witches thus tended to come at first more from Lutheran and Calvinist confessions, which were acutely conscious of these apocalyptic signs of an angry God, and it took several decades after the initial stages of the Reformation for such prosecutions to become a matter of acute ecclesiastical and secular concern: c.1590–c.1660 can perhaps be designated the period of greatest danger for any practitioner of magic, two or three lifetimes after the religious confession of Europe had been thrown into turmoil.7 285

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 285

12/19/2000 10:04:58 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Can it be said that the peculiar (but not unique) psychological atmosphere of the sixteenth century was fuelled by agencies generated simply by human beings rather than by external forces? Two such agencies are regularly cited: demonological treatises and torture. Books such as Heinrich Institoris’s Malleus Maleficarum (1486), Johann Weyer’s De praestigiis daemonum (1563), Jean Bodin’s Démonomanie des sorciers (1580), Reginald Scot’s Discovery of Witchcraft (1584), and Nicolas Rémy’s Daemonolatria (1595), to name only five of the dozens produced from the fifteenth to the seventeenth centuries, tend to be plundered for illustrative anecdotes and telling phrases rather than examined and commented on as serious works of polemic. Their purpose was broadly twofold. One, to offer advice to those authorities most closely connected with and engaged in the extirpation of the threatening satanic conspiracy manifesting itself in witchcraft among much else. The Malleus Maleficarum is a prime example of this type. Two, to do battle on one side or another of the confessional divide to show either that witchcraft was largely a fantasy concocted by one’s religious opponents and taken seriously by the old, the stupid, or the sick, or that it was an entirely real danger to humanity, which was being underestimated or dismissed by people with dubious morals and defective religious opinions. In other words, the treatises were weapons of one kind or another in the hands of the educated and tended to reinforce rather than change their preconceived ideas. It is in these books (though not all) that one finds descriptions of the Sabbat, which is thus, in its clichéd form, a learned construct whose influence on the majority of popular beliefs and practices was not great; however, it may have had some effect on the questions put to the accused by judges or inquisitors. As for torture, it is too easily assumed that the infliction of pain will invariably produce lies or fantasies. It may indeed do so, of course, but that depends partly on the questions asked and partly on the genuine convictions of the person being tortured. Magic is a two-way process. There is the person who operates it and the person upon whom it is operated. If both start from the point of believing that such a process can be effectual and that it can be effectual in the hands of the operator involved who, for example, may be using explicit and subliminal forms of communication, and/or culturally defined symbols accepted by both parties, and if one takes into account the vulnerability of the client to expressions of benevolence or hostility used by the operator whether consciously or not, such factors will go a long way to producing effects that will convince both parties of the efficacy of the methods employed to produce them. It is thus not difficult to see that a witch who experienced flight, whether this experience came from hallucinogens or from some other type of physiological or psychological impetus, or who noted that the cures or curses really did work, would not be lying to her examiners if she admitted she had experienced or done such things; nor would the witnesses against 286

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 286

12/19/2000 10:04:58 AM

Superstition, Magic, and Witchcraft

her, if they accused her of them. The potency of interpersonal reaction and relationships in early modern communities is often underestimated, and the extraordinary results of that potency either dismissed or overlooked. Some people under torture undoubtedly made up stories to satisfy their interrogators. Others, however, confessed to the items on their indictments because they genuinely believed they were real experiences.8 In general, then, it can be said that witch prosecutions were not created by demonological treatises or by the prevalence of torture in a number of judicial systems. Accusations and successful prosecutions would have happened without them, and they acted rather as stimuli in processes already conceived and begun than as originating impulses. Skepticism—and there was much of it—tended on the one hand to focus on certain points of detail, such as the reality or otherwise of the flight to the Sabbat, and on the other, to blame confessions of magical behavior on the supposed frailties of women, which led them to imagine they were in possession of all kinds of power and had undergone all manner of experience, whereas these powers and experiences were little more than illusions caused either by physical illness, as Johann Weyer and Reginald Scot maintained, or by the maleficent action of a demon, as Bodin and Rémy averred. But the atmosphere surrounding magic, whether witchcraft or not, or intercourse with entities other than human, was by no means entirely gloomy or oppressive. Popular theatre frequently portrayed witches and devils on stage, the effect often being to raise laughter, although it would be laughter of a somewhat nervous kind, since there would be few if any in the audience who doubted the genuine existence of such beings. The legend of there being an “extra” demon suddenly appearing on stage to carry off Faustus’ soul in one performance of Marlowe’s play underlines the point. Plays intended actually to produce magical effects belonged more to the seventeenth century in the form of masques performed at royal courts, with royal participation during key moments of the action. These plays were intended to represent the monarch’s command over the hidden forces of Nature and his ability thereby to restore or reinforce a kind of Platonic harmony, which an earlier section of the masque had shown to be disrupted. Stage scenery and the music written for these masques also played a significant part in creating the intended effects. Such performances were not limited to royal courts; in 1630 Tommaso Campanella related how Pope Urban VIII employed members of his Court to personify planets in a kind of magical ballet intended to ward off maleficent astral influences that had been seen to threaten the Holy Father. All plays made use of music, some more than others, and music played a vital role in revealing certain truths about the created universe and in turn influenced what happened within and outside the material sphere. Marsilio 287

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 287

12/19/2000 10:04:58 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Ficino wrote that the best way of improving one’s “spirits”—and this is a technical term referring to invisible forces within the body—is by listening to appropriate music; fairies and witches had distinctive music that they used for magical purposes; Athanasius Kircher explained that Sicilian fishermen were able to lure swordfish into their nets by singing certain songs and ringing bells. These, he said, formed some kind of incantation, unless there is something in specific sounds that stimulates a response in animal spirits, causing a sympathetic vibration between their “spirits” and the musical sounds themselves. What is more, the planets themselves produced sounds often referred to as “music,” and Johann Kepler, among others, devoted much energy and time to calculating the relationship between planetary notes as the planets moved in relation to each other and the Earth. It is not surprising, then, in the light of the ubiquity of magic in one or other of its forms to find it reflected in some of the art of the period, too. Official portraits, for example, often contain traces of the prevailing occult psychology, which can be missed unless one is alert to their presence. The younger Marcus Gheerhaerts’ “Ditchley” portrait of Elizabeth Tudor with fairy wings is an easy one to interpret, but Velasquez’ portrait of the Spanish Infante Philip, which shows him wearing bells intended to ward off evil spirits, Hans Mielich’s picture of a young Habsburg similarly protected, or Lucan Cranach’s portrait of Frau von Minckwitz wearing a heart-shaped ornament on a long necklace (this ornament, as we can tell from many other material examples, is an amulet, not merely an adornment), all indicate not only that people of high and middling rank wore objects with magical associations or powers, but that they were content to have themselves recorded as doing so. Allegorical pictures, such as Jan Breughel’s “Allegory of Hearing” or Dürer’s “Melancholy” were also common vehicles for contemplation along magical and Hermetic lines, and, indeed, are more or less incomprehensible unless studied in those particular ways. All in all, therefore, the Reformation broke into a world alive with possibilities our prevailing mentality no longer recognizes as valid. Everyone acknowledged the actuality of existences—abstract, divine, angelic, spiritual, demonic—other than human and was persuaded that interaction between all these modes of being was not only a possible but also a real and frequent experience. Signs and wonders made visible God’s messages to humankind; astrology interpreted these signs, and divination created others that acted as keys to hidden planes behind the surfaces of things; magic reached out first to contact and then to control the entities that occupied those hidden worlds. By doing all this—observing, interpreting, touching, manipulating—people rendered the physical world in which they lived more predictable, more explicable, and hence less haphazard than it would have been otherwise. If religion objected, as it was bound to do, it never 288

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 288

12/19/2000 10:04:58 AM

Superstition, Magic, and Witchcraft

succeeded in excising these occult activities from the everyday life of its flocks, if only because the instinct to seek control of events was too deepseated to eradicate entirely.

Select Bibliography Agrippa, Heinrich Cornelius. De occulta philosophia, ed. V. Perrone Compagni. Leiden: Brill, 1992. Ankarloo, Bengt and Stuart Clark (eds). The Athlone History of Witchcraft and Magic in Europe: vol. 4, The Period of the Witch Trials. London: The Athlone Press, 2002. Ball, Philip. The Devil’s Doctor: Paracelsus and the World of Renaissance Magic and Science. London: Heinemann, 2002. Bechtel, Guy. La sorcière et l’Occident. Paris: Plon, 1997. Behringer, Wolfgang. Witchcraft Persecutions in Bavaria: Popular Magic, Religious Zealotry, and the Reason of State in Early Modern Europe (English translation). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. —. Witches and Witch-Hunts (English translation). Cambridge: Polity Press, 2004. Bever, Edward. The Realities of Witchcraft and Popular Magic in Early Modern Europe: Culture, Cognition, and Everyday Life. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008. Brann, Noel. Trithemius and Magical Theology. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1999. Brauner, Sigrid. Fearless Wives and Frightened Shrews: The Construction of the Witch in Early Modern Germany. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1995. Briggs, Robin. Witches and Neighbours. London: HarperCollins, 1996. Clark, Stuart. Thinking with Demons: The Idea of Witchcraft in Early Modern Europe. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997. Decker, Rainer. Witchcraft and the Papacy (English translation). Charlottesville and London: University of Virginia Press, 2008. Del Rio, Martin. Disquisitionum Magicarum Libri Sex (edited English translation). Investigations into Magic. Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 2000. Golden, Richard. Encyclopaedia of Witchcraft: The Western Tradition, 4 vols. Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, 2006. Goodrick-Clark, Nicholas. The Western Esoteric Tradition: A Historical Introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008. Harkness, Deborah. John Dee’s Conversations with Angels: Alchemy and the End of Nature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Harmening, Dieter. Superstitio: Uberlieferungs- und theoriegeschichtliche Untersuchungen zur kirklich-theologischen Aberglaubenslteratur des Mittelalters. Berlin: Erich Schmidt, 1979. Institoris, Heinrich. Malleus Maleficarum (English translation). Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 2007. Jacques-Chaquin, Nicole and Maxime Préaud (eds). Le Sabbat des Sorciers, xv–xviiie siècles. Grenoble: Jérôme Millon, 1993. Levack, Brian. The Witch-Hunt in Early Modern Europe. London and New York: Longman, 1987. 289

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 289

12/19/2000 10:04:58 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology Maxwell-Stuart, Peter. Witchcraft in Europe and the New World, 1400–1800. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2001. —. Witch Hunters. Stroud: Tempus Publishing, 2003. —. Wizards. Stroud: Tempus Publishing, 2004. —. Satan: A Biography. Stroud: Amberley Publishing, 2008. Parish, Helen and William Naphy (eds), Religion and Superstition in Reformation Europe. Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 2002. Roper, Lyndal. Witch Craze: Terror and Fantasy in Baroque Germany. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2004. Schulte, Rolf. Hexenmeister: Die Verfolgung von Männern im Rahmen der Hexenverfolgung von 1530–1730 im Alten Reich. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2001. Szónyi, György. John Dee’s Occultism: Magical Exaltation through Powerful Signs. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 2004. Tremp, Kathrin Utz. Von der Haeresie zur Hexerei: “Wirkliche” und imaginäre Sekten im Spätmittelalter. Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 2008. Waite, Gary. Heresy, Magic, and Witchcraft in Early Modern Europe. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003. Weyer, Johann. De praestigiis daemonum (English translation). Witches, Devils, and Doctors in the Renaissance. Binghamton, NY: Mediaeval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1991. Williams, Gerhild Scholz. Defining Dominion: The Discourses of Magic and Witchcraft in Early Modern France and Germany. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1995.

290

9780567033604_Ch16_Final_txt_print.indd 290

12/19/2000 10:04:58 AM

17

Radical Theology Geoffrey Dipple

The very act of determining what does and what does not constitute the radical theology of the Reformation is inherently problematic. As scholars of the Radical Reformation have noted frequently, on a number of theological issues, and especially on soteriological themes traditionally deemed so central to defining Reformation theology, Luther departed much more radically from the theology of the medieval church than did most of his opponents on the left.1 Consequently, rather than speaking of the radical theology of the Reformation, we may want to think in terms of the theology of the Radical Reformation, or the theology of the Reformation’s left wing. However, such terminology itself raises further concerns by suggesting a level of theological continuity or cohesion among a diverse group of religious reformers scattered across time and space that may be historically untenable. A further possibility is to speak of the theologies of radical reformers or Reformation radicals, thereby avoiding implications about the theological coherence or homogeneity of the movement, but this approach still leaves open the question of how we determine who was and who was not a radical. While the initial criteria developed to determine inclusion among the radicals were largely theological, more recent studies have focused more on social and political markers, thereby further muddying the waters.2 Nevertheless, these studies suggest the following as a provisional list of the characteristics of radical theology in the Reformation: 1. A criticism of the ethical fruits of the magisterial Reformation, which often included a rejection of the doctrine of predestination and returned an element of human free will to the soteriological process. 2. A closely related rejection of the practice of pedobaptism, often rooted in a critique of the ecclesiologies of the magisterial reformers and the old church and their promiscuous membership practices. In some cases the radicals took the further step of instituting adult baptism, but this step was not universal. 3. A wide-ranging anticlericalism, inherited from the early years of the Reformation and carried through to its logical conclusions by the radicals, manifested not only in their definition of leadership roles in 291

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 291

12/19/2000 10:05:43 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

the church, but also in their hermeneutics and their teachings on the sacraments. 4. Primitivism, or a commitment to a more radical break with recent tradition and a restitution of the early church distinct from that encompassed in the term Reformation. 5. The rejection of any role for the secular authority in matters of faith. 6. Finally, a heightened eschatology, manifested in various ways, possibly including a revived missionary impulse. When he first coined the term “Radical Reformation,” George H. Williams envisioned a European-wide phenomenon spanning much of the sixteenth century, whose membership included Anabaptists, Spiritualists, and Evangelical Rationalists. The present study sides with Williams’ critics, who generally accept his temporal framework, but restrict the movement’s geographical scope to the German-speaking lands of central Europe and its membership to those broadly defined as Anabaptists and Spiritualists. While this approach minimizes attention to genuine connections between Anabaptists and anti-Trinitarians in Italy and Poland, it provides a more coherent narrative of the Radical Reformation.3 Inherent in many recent studies of Reformation radicalism is the assumption that the Reformation did not start out as a moderate reform movement subsequently radicalized by firebrands, but rather, from its inception it was a radical challenge to the existing church, political structure, and society that was subsequently moderated by the magisterial reformers. The Radical Reformation appeared first in Wittenberg in 1521 and 1522, among those who rejected this move to moderate the message of the early Reformation.4

The Communal Reformation and Saxon Radicalism Reformation radicalism both grew out of, and in turn reinforced, the initial popular reception of the reforming message. Long treated as a sideshow to the main attraction of the magisterial Reformation and dismissed with labels such as its irresponsible Wildwuchs (wild growth) or its aimless Sturmjahre (storm years), the popular Reformation has become an object of study in its own right. Peter Blickle in particular has focused attention on the communal Reformation as the first legitimate Reformation movement, with its own distinct theology, derived from the teachings of the magisterial Reformers, but mediated by late medieval traditions of communalism and piety. At the center of this theology was an emphasis on the authority of scripture, the “pure gospel,” which led to demands for the communal appointment of pastors, and ultimately to claims for the authority of communities in deciding the content of correct doctrine. Communal autonomy and authority were reinforced by 292

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 292

12/19/2000 10:05:43 AM

Radical Theology

Luther’s teaching on the priesthood of all believers, which not only enhanced the worth of the layman, but also obligated him to defend the Gospel in the decidedly anticlerical environment of sixteenth-century Germany. The Reformation doctrine of salvation by grace alone was interpreted in this context and seen to change fundamentally the believer’s relationship to God by denying the traditional mediatory role of the priesthood. In addition, relationships between people were reconfigured by an identification of brotherly love and its consequences as the primary content of the Gospel message.5 Prominent among the earliest champions of the communal Reformation were Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt and Thomas Müntzer. As Luther’s colleague at the University of Wittenberg, Karlstadt likely had greater prominence among his contemporaries. However, because of his role in the German Peasants’ War of 1525, Müntzer is probably better known to subsequent generations. Over the years, assessments of the relationships between these two men have waxed and waned with changing historical and political fashions, but the most recent scholarship sees them closely connected both personally and theologically.6 Luther accused Müntzer and Karlstadt of being Schwärmer (enthusiasts), and subsequent scholarship on the Reformation has labeled them both Spiritualists. The roots of their Spiritualism are usually traced to Augustine’s neo-Platonism, especially as it was interpreted by late medieval German mystics.7 Recently, though, Emmet McLaughlin has challenged some of these assumptions, arguing that while not devoid of neo-Platonic influences, the essence of Müntzer’s thought is rooted in biblical conceptions of the Spirit of God as an active, driving force, often associated with the Old Testament prophets.8 The full implications of McLaughlin’s suggestions for our understanding of Müntzer’s theology, or for that matter Karlstadt’s theology, have yet to be drawn. But they highlight well the complexity hiding behind the seemingly simple label of Spiritualism, a complexity compounded by other traditions flowing into the theologies of these two men. For example, although they accorded the Holy Spirit a crucial role in the interpretation of scripture, both men were humanistically trained biblical exegetes, who accepted the Reformation stress on the authority of the Bible. Both distinguished between the inner and outer Word of God and regarded the latter as a witness to and confirmation of the activity of the former. Scripture was, then, the record of the Holy Spirit speaking to believers in the past, and a necessary, although not sufficient, component in the path to salvation. Since all of scripture was a record of the Spirit’s activities, they granted the Old Testament much more authority than did many of their contemporaries. The flip side of this position was that apparent new revelations of the Spirit needed to be tested for their conformity to the outer word of scripture, interpreted according to understandable methods of biblical exegesis. Nonetheless, they championed the 293

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 293

12/19/2000 10:05:43 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

biblical interpretation based on experienced faith of the simple layman over that of the learned scholars (Schriftgelehrten).9 The work of the Spirit in the believer’s soul also played a central role in salvation according to both Müntzer and Karlstadt. Often described as Pelagian in contemporary and subsequent Lutheran polemics, their soteriologies were, in fact, moderately predestinarian. Through grace, the believer receives faith, the trust in God’s promise of salvation, which frees the believer from creaturely attachments and allows him or her to fulfill the dictates of the Law, a process both men identify with the mystical concept of “yieldedness” (Gelassenheit). Consequently, sanctification plays a much greater role in their theologies than it does in Luther’s, and both men criticized what they perceived to be the moral laxity of the Wittenberg Reformation—Müntzer described it as a “cheap” or “sweet” faith and contrasted it with the bitter faith of true Christians. As a result, both men had a very different conception of the visible church than did Luther. Karlstadt described the congregation as the place where the individual experiences salvation, and he and Müntzer anticipated the establishment of a visible church of the regenerate.10 As the sacramental entrance to the visible church, infant baptism came under fire by both men, who regarded children as incapable of attaining the experienced faith so central to their theologies. Müntzer described infant baptism as the epitome of the empty ceremonialism that replaced the activity of the Spirit in the early church and has plagued its existence ever since. As a result, he questioned the value of the rite, and during his reforms in Allstedt, he considered postponing baptism until children were old enough to understand its significance. At Orlamünde, Karlstadt actually suspended the administration of the sacrament for a time. However, neither man took the next step of introducing the practice of baptizing believing adults on professions of faith, likely as a result of their understanding of the sacraments. Applied to the sacraments, the neo-Platonic foundation of much of Christian Spiritualism, with its assumptions about an ontological divide between the material and the spiritual, implies a fundamental distinction between the ecclesiastical rite (the sign or signum) and the spiritual event (the essence or res) it is meant to signify. This position lies at the basis of Karlstadt’s denial of the real presence in the Lord’s Supper. He rejected completely the idea of sacramental mediation of grace, but retained the external rite as a public sign of inner renewal in the person.11 Müntzer’s sacramental theology seems more complicated, and he appears to have understood the Lord’s Supper as both a sign of the internal activity of the Spirit and as a conduit for that Spirit.12 This may be further evidence that Müntzer’s spiritualism was derived from Old Testament as well as neo-Platonic sources, and, as a result, was less strict about the spirit–matter dualism so central to many manifestations of Christian spiritualism. 294

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 294

12/19/2000 10:05:43 AM

Radical Theology

Like Luther’s, Karlstadt’s and Müntzer’s approaches to scripture and the sacraments undermined the status and functions of the traditional priesthood. But beyond this, they turned the Reformation’s weapons against the traditional clergy on the Wittenberg reformers themselves. For both men the new spirit-filled layman appears as a countertype to the old corrupt priest.13 Müntzer blamed the perversion of Christianity through the years on the clergy who live without the Spirit and fail to open themselves to the living Word. And when he broke with the Wittenberg Reformers, he accused them of worshipping a dumb God and of being ignorant of the living Word.14 Karlstadt invested considerable authority in the congregation, including that of correcting errant pastors, and James Stayer has even suggested that the contest between Karlstadt and Luther over the nature of the Eucharist should be understood in the context of Karlstadt’s anticlericalism and Luther’s moves to bolster the reformed ministerial office with his developing doctrine of consubstantiation.15 In The Prague Manifesto of 1521 Müntzer attributed the sad state of contemporary Christianity to the activities of the priests: I have read here and there in the history of the early fathers, and find that the immaculate, virginal church, after the death of the apostles, soon became a whore because of the seductive priests.16 According to Franklin H. Littell, those on the Reformation’s left wing were united by “a common dream of the Early Church” and the restitution of that Church was a driving force in their reforming agendas.17 Interestingly, though, neither Karlstadt nor Müntzer began his reforming career convinced that the Church had fallen shortly after the age of the apostles. Rather, like most of their contemporaries among the humanist and magisterial advocates of reform, they initially identified the perversion of true Christianity with the abuses of the preceding 400 years, and particularly with the rise of scholasticism. Only gradually, as they became increasingly disaffected with the existing Church and criticized more and more of its institutions, teachings, and practices did they look further into the past for the source of its problems. This suggests that the primitive church was less a normative model driving their reforming visions than an evolving image justifying and clarifying specific reforming issues. And when they did appeal to the model of the primitive church, it was first and foremost as a Spirit-filled community. Other attributes were adopted as models for reform only insofar as they manifested the activities and presence of the Spirit. Nor was the church of the apostles the exclusive example of such a pneumatological community in the history of God’s people, and both men appealed at times to examples of the church of the Spirit from the Old Testament as well.18 295

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 295

12/19/2000 10:05:43 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Although they shared a similar approach to the past, Karlstadt and Müntzer parted ways in their views about the future. While Karlstadt was unique among Saxon Reformers on account of his relative disinterest in the last days, eschatological references abound in Müntzer’s writings. There remains, however, the question of the extent to which this difference was a factor in their approaches to missions and their relationships to secular authority. Often Müntzer’s rhetoric suggests that he was gathering the elect for the end times, as, for example, in his appeal to the Bohemians during his visit to Prague in 1521. However, his actions indicate that, like Karlstadt, he was primarily concerned with the fate of his local Reformation, and there is little evidence that his concern with the last days fed into a distinctive missionary zeal.19 Although Müntzer’s activities during the Peasants’ War involved a different order of political engagement than we encounter with Karlstadt, it appears that eschatology did not dictate as fundamentally different perceptions of the role of secular authority, and with it compulsion, in matters of faith as once thought. Debate continues as to whether Müntzer’s “revolutionary activity” during the Peasants’ War received a greater impetus from his apocalypticism or his mysticism.20 This debate has taken an interesting turn with McLaughlin’s suggested revision to long-standing assumptions about Müntzer’s apocalypticism and the identification of his sense of calling with that of an Old Testament prophet rather than an apocalyptic revolutionary.21 Whatever forces drove him, Müntzer clearly saw a role for secular authorities in the implementation of the Reformation, a point made most clearly in his appeal for support in the Sermon to the Princes, delivered in Allstedt castle on July 13, 1524. After the failure of that appeal, Müntzer’s thinking about the nature of secular authority changed significantly, but to the end he remained convinced that coercive power had a place in promoting and defending the Reformation.22 The rejection by Karlstadt and his congregation at Orlamünde of Müntzer’s invitation to join a covenant with the Allstedters in July 1524 has been taken as an indication of Karlstadt’s qualified pacifism and exclusion of secular authority from religious matters.23 However, his subsequent activities at Rothenberg on the Tauber during the Peasants’ War have challenged this image.24 With the defeat of the peasant rebels in 1525, and subsequently Müntzer’s execution and Karlstadt’s defection to the Magisterial Reformation in Switzerland, Saxon radicalism disappeared from the Reformation landscape. Nevertheless, it continued to influence the Radical Reformation in both its Anabaptist and Spiritualist manifestations. Anabaptism In the fall of 1524, Conrad Grebel and his companions in Zurich wrote to Müntzer, and also to Karlstadt. Of that correspondence, only two letters to Müntzer survive, and it is unlikely they ever even reached him. Shortly 296

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 296

12/19/2000 10:05:44 AM

Radical Theology

thereafter, on January 21, 1525, the Zurich radicals took the dramatic step of baptizing each other, thereby initiating the Anabaptist movement in the eyes of both their contemporaries and subsequent generations. The conjunction of the Zurich baptisms and the Peasants’ War have colored the interpretation of what the Zurich radicals intended with the first baptisms and of the nature of sixteenth-century Anabaptism in general. For the magisterial reformers of their own age, there was little doubt about the origins of all religious radicals and the relationships between them. Luther dismissed them all as fanatics, and Heinrich Bullinger described the Swiss Anabaptists as the children of Müntzer. Such interpretations cast a long shadow over subsequent descriptions of the Anabaptists, but by the mid-twentieth century their spiritual heirs successfully re-evaluated the origins and nature of the movement. Representative of the new interpretation was Harold S. Bender’s “The Anabaptist Vision,” which established the criteria for orthodoxy of Evangelical Anabaptism and laid out its legitimate lines of succession from its beginnings in Zurich, through The Schleitheim Articles, to Dutch Mennonites and Moravian Hutterites, thereby excluding apparently aberrant Anabaptists like Hans Hut, Balthasar Hubmaier, and those who took over the city of Münster in Westphalia from 1534 to 1535. Although there were some minor corrections suggested to Bender’s thesis by his colleagues, his vision dominated free-church historiography.25 In the 1970s Bender’s “vision” was challenged by a generation of largely secular revisionist historians. If there was a manifesto of the revisionists, it was likely the article “From Monogenesis to Polygenesis: the Historical Discussion of Anabaptist Origins,” which not only returned to the narrative rebaptizers exiled by Bender, but also traced Anabaptist origins to three distinct traditions: the Swiss Brethren so central to the Bender school; a south German/Austrian tradition, strongly influenced by the thought of Thomas Müntzer, mediated primarily through the missionary activity of Hans Hut; and a north German/ Dutch tradition deriving from Melchior Hoffman and including both the pacifistic activities of Menno Simons and the violent excesses of Anabaptist Münster.26 Subsequent research, including that undertaken by authors of the polygenesis thesis, has qualified its applicability, arguing that while it explains Anabaptist beginnings, it did not serve as a comprehensive explanation for subsequent developments in sixteenth-century Anabaptism. Crucial in this process has been the definition of a common theological core of Anabaptist teachings through the resuscitation of the Anabaptist credentials of Balthasar Hubmaier, likely the theologically most astute of the early Anabaptist leaders, who left a deep mark on subsequent Swiss and south German/Austrian Anabaptism.27 Other responses to the revisionists have been less friendly, in some cases merely ignoring their findings and in others challenging their conclusions head on from an explicitly post-revisionist perspective.28 297

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 297

12/19/2000 10:05:44 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

The first adult baptisms in Zurich in January 1525 occurred in the context of open questioning of the validity of infant baptism by the Zurich radicals, and even refusals to have children baptized in some of Zurich’s dependent villages. Scholars continue to debate whether Karlstadt’s statements on infant baptism influenced the Zurich radicals, but, as James Stayer notes, the radicals in Saxony and Zurich were saying some of the same things about baptism for different reasons: while the Saxons attacked infant baptism as part of a more general campaign against empty ceremonialism, the Zurichers were much more interested in the restoration of apostolic practices.29 Nonetheless, the baptismal theology of Swiss and other Anabaptists indicates that they shared a number of soteriological assumptions with Karlstadt and Müntzer and, as a result, their criticism of the moral failures of the magisterial Reformation. While different authors and different traditions developed their own distinct nuances, the starting point for all Anabaptist understandings of baptism was that the external rite had to be preceded by the arrival of faith, and with it a commitment to lead a Christian life. The scriptural basis of this position is clearly stated in several early Swiss Anabaptist sources: the Gospel contains no injunction to baptize infants, and both the Great Commission (Mt. 28.18–20 and Mk 16.15–16) and apostolic practice (Acts 2.38; 9.17–19; 16.17–34; 19.1–5) indicate that baptism should follow instruction in the Gospel, repentance, and belief.30 Like Karlstadt, the earliest Anabaptists maintained that the visible element in the rites of the church served only as signs for spiritual events, but they made no clear distinction between inner spiritual, and outer water, baptism. In On the Christian Baptism of Believers (July 1525), Balthasar Hubmaier did make this distinction, identifying “inner” spirit baptism with faith and “outer” water baptism as a public testimony to the inner spiritual event. The latter, in and of itself, is not essential to salvation, but must be part of the process, in part, because Christ commanded it. To strengthen the case for water baptism, he also described it in covenantal terms, as a vow in which the baptizand pledged to lead a Christian life and, by entering the church, to willingly submit to its correction in the form of the ban.31 Drawing on mystical themes championed by the Saxon Radicals, Hans Hut and Melchior Hoffman gave this covenantal understanding of baptism an interesting twist. For both men, water baptism precedes spirit baptism and involves a commitment to persevere through a period of spiritual tribulation, described by Hut as the cross of Christ and by Hoffman as the wilderness of the soul. Ultimately, the true believer is rewarded with spirit baptism and justification or salvation. Hut and Hoffman also parted company with many other Anabaptists in identifying baptism as an eschatological sign, marking the elect in preparation for the last days.32 The Anabaptist distinction between spirit and water baptism could at times lead to questions about the necessity of the latter. In fact, this lack of 298

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 298

12/19/2000 10:05:44 AM

Radical Theology

integration helps to explain Melchior Hoffman’s willingness to declare a suspension (Stillstand) of baptism (1531) and later to partially retract his commitment to adult baptism (1539). The most innovative response to this challenge came from Pilgram Marpeck, who sought a middle way between what he regarded as the empty legalism of the Swiss and the flippant dismissal of the importance of ecclesiastical ceremonies advocated by Spiritualists and Spiritualist Anabaptists he encountered in Strasbourg in the 1520s and 1530s. Marpeck did not regard water baptism as just a symbol to be observed merely because Christ had commanded it. Rather, he argued, when outward signs are received in faith, they are no longer signs, but become one essence with the spiritual event in Christ. The explanation for Marpeck’s seemingly convoluted position can be found in his theology of the incarnation. In the person of Jesus created reality became a mediator of human participation in God. After Jesus’ resurrection, the glorified body of Christ ascended into heaven, but his unglorified body remained on earth in the form of the church to carry on his work. In baptism, the Father and the Spirit draw the believer to the divine on an inner level, while Christ pushes on the outer level. In this way, water baptism serves as a co-witness to redemptive inner baptism, and the whole individual is addressed, not just the inner person as with the Spiritualists, or just the outer as with the magisterial Reformers’ practice of infant baptism.33 Less successful was the search for a response to sacramentalist and spiritualist understandings of baptism undertaken by Menno Simons and Dirk Philips in the north. Both stressed the importance of inner baptism to the point that its connection to outer baptism became tenuous, and it is sometimes difficult to discern in their writings the reasons to observe the external ceremony.34 In all Anabaptist traditions, then, baptism marked both entry to the church and a voluntary commitment to live as fully as possible a Christ-like life. Many scholars see in this combination a distinctive ecclesiology that sets Anabaptism off from other reforming movements of the sixteenth century.35 Article four of The Schleitheim Articles clearly envisions as well a church separated from the world.36 Although the Swiss were the earliest and most consistently separatist of all Anabaptists, the origins and sources of this aspect of their ecclesiology remain a hotly contested issue. Many scholars, both of the Bender school and among the post-revisionists, regard separation as an inherent component of Swiss Anabaptist ecclesiology from the outset.37 Revisionist scholars, however, argue that separatism was adopted gradually in response to the political marginalization of the movement in both Zurich and the countryside.38 Recent research has supplemented the revisionist approach with a focus on Balthasar Hubmaier’s communal Anabaptist Reformation in Waldshut as a legitimate form of Anabaptism and with challenges to the assumption that Schleitheim’s position on separation became normative for all Anabaptist practice in Switzerland and neighboring south Germany after 1527.39 While 299

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 299

12/19/2000 10:05:44 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

questions about the nature and organization of the Church do not play nearly as prominent a role in the theologies of Hut and Hoffman, the Anabaptist traditions they fostered ultimately adopted ecclesiologies similar to the Swiss, culminating in the separatism of the Hutterites and the Mennonites.40 In addition to believers’ baptism, Arnold Snyder has identified the use of fraternal admonition (the ban), celebration of the Lord’s Supper as both a memorial and a pledge, and a commitment to mutual aid among members of the church as hallmarks of a common Anabaptist ecclesiology.41 For almost all Anabaptists the purity of the Church was to be maintained through the application of the ban, characterized as a fraternal admonition according to Matthew 18.15–18. This version of the ban figures prominently in many early Swiss Anabaptist sources, although it is absent in descriptions of some of the rural congregations around Zurich. In some cases, as in The Schleitheim Articles, it is integral to a separatist ecclesiology, whereas in others, as in Waldshut and many rural communities, it existed aside from a separatist context.42 Within other Anabaptist traditions, teachings on the ban evolved, in part at least, as a result of encounters with Swiss Anabaptists. Hans Hut’s rudimentary statements connecting the ban to the baptismal pledge were developed further in a more ecclesial context by his immediate followers, Hans Schlaffer and Leonhart Schiemer, and then taken up by the Hutterites. In a similar way, a thoroughly developed teaching on the ban appeared among Mennonite leaders, in spite of Melchior Hoffman’s relative silence on the subject. Different nuances also appear in approaches to the ban within and between the different Anabaptist traditions. The comments of Michael Sattler, the primary author of The Schleitheim Articles, suggest a fundamental optimism about the possibility of regenerated believers conquering sin in this life, and envision the ban as an extraordinary expedient aimed more at maintaining the purity of Christ’s body than as means to admonish the wayward on a potentially regular basis. By way of contrast, working from a more pessimistic anthropology, Balthasar Hubmaier, and subsequently some Hutterite leaders, saw the ban being applied more regularly and widely, and identified it as well with the office of the keys (Mt. 16.19, 18.18–20; Jn 20.21–3).43 Interestingly, although they held an optimistic view of human potential, and with it a strict vision of the church as the bride of Christ without spot or wrinkle, the Mennonite leadership went into a frenzy of banning in the later 1540s. This activity appears to suggest a growing legalism in Menno’s thought, although the kernel of this future development seems present already in his earliest theological statements.44 By way of contrast, Marpeck sought a via media between what he regarded as the excessive legalism of the Swiss and the apparent laxity of the magisterial and Spiritualist reformers. He shared Hut’s pessimism about the possibility of regeneration in this life, and treated the ban as an instrument to 300

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 300

12/19/2000 10:05:44 AM

Radical Theology

build up the body of Christ more than to maintain the purity of the community, focused on spiritual growth in grace rather than on the keeping of literal commands.45 According to The Schleitheim Articles, the ban should be applied “before the breaking of bread, so that we may all of one spirit and in one love break and eat from one bread and drink from one cup.”46 In all Anabaptist traditions, the Lord’s Supper was first and foremost a memorial of Christ’s death and sacrifice, but, when received in faith, it also served as a fraternal meal, incorporating the believer with other believers into Christ’s body on earth. In it, one pledged love to one’s neighbor, which involved as well a willingness to suffer as Christ had suffered. Swiss Anabaptists generally stressed the memorial and imitative characteristics of the meal. This tendency is especially evident in the theology of Hubmaier, who, likely as a challenge to traditional Eucharistic theology, treated the Supper more from an ethical than a sacramental perspective.47 By way of contrast, the south German/Austrian and north German/Dutch Anabaptist traditions had a stronger spiritualist understanding, stressing the believer’s participation in Christ’s suffering as an almost mystical process. Initially, especially in the theologies of Hans Hut and Melchior Hoffman, greater attention was paid to the individual’s relationship to God in an eschatological context than to the Supper’s communal features. Subsequently, in both of these traditions a Swiss-style emphasis on the communal aspects of the Supper was grafted on to these teachings. As with baptism, Marpeck was able to more closely align the inner and outer aspects of the Lord’s Supper than were Menno Simons and Dirk Philips.48 The communal spirit embodied in the celebration of the Lord’s Supper was reinforced by a commitment to mutual support in terms of material goods. Although this sharing was integral to Swiss Anabaptism from the beginning, it is not the subject of any of the articles adopted at Schleitheim, perhaps because it was an assumed teaching or perhaps because it was discussed in a congregational order that likely circulated initially with the articles.49 Variations of this congregational order were transmitted via the Tyrol to Moravian Anabaptism, where they met with echoes of Müntzer’s “anti-materialistic piety” which saw the renunciation of material goods as a sign of yieldedness. Among the Hutterites, the most successful of the communitarian Anabaptist groups in Moravia, and in Münster, where experiments in community of goods quickly degenerated into a debased form of war communism, sharing and mutual aid became compulsory. Especially among the early Moravian Anabaptist groups, and then subsequently between the Hutterites and Swiss Brethren, interpreting and implementing the biblical model of community of goods became a source of friction and ultimately distinction between Anabaptist groups.50 In response to the teachings of the Hutterites and Münsterites, Pilgram Marpeck 301

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 301

12/19/2000 10:05:44 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

in the south and Menno Simons and Dirk Philips in the north reaffirmed the essentially voluntary nature of true Christian sharing. Franklin Littell has tied the distinctiveness of this Anabaptist ecclesiology to primitivism and the desire to restore the apostolic church.51 Littell assumes that the Anabaptists had a clearly defined model of the primitive church at the outset of their reforming activities; in fact, the historical visions that Littell ascribes to the early Anabaptists first appear in later writings of the movement—most notably in The Hutterite Chronicle (begun in the 1560s) and in the great Mennonite martyrology The Martyrs Mirror (completed 1660)—written after they were accorded a measure of toleration and the time for reflection, and after the age of radical reform had largely passed. Historical references in earlier Anabaptist writings suggest that like Karlstadt and Müntzer the Anabaptists initially made more ad hoc appeals to the historical record to justify specific reform proposals or to legitimate criticisms of specific ecclesiastical teachings or practices. As a result, depending on the issue at hand, different Anabaptists, or the same Anabaptists at different times, could emphasize different characteristics of the primitive church as normative for reform. Initially among the Swiss Brethren, and subsequently in other Anabaptist traditions, the structure and practices of the apostolic church were held as normative in a way they never were by the magisterial reformers, or even by other Reformation radicals. But the creation of this shared vision, and with it an elaborate historical superstructure, was a gradual process, arising in large part from conflicts within the ranks of Reformation radicals.52 A crucial moment in the Anabaptist view of church history as elucidated by Littell was Constantine’s conversion to, and legalization of, Christianity, and with it the introduction of secular power and coercion into matters of faith. With this went not only criticism of governmental interference into matters of faith and the beginnings of Western notions of freedom of conscience, but even a rejection of the power of coercive authority, manifested sometimes as pacifism or nonresistance. Article six of The Schleitheim Articles states this position clearly, and Harold Bender identified pacifism as a defining component of the Anabaptist vision.53 In his original challenge to the definition of Evangelical Anabaptism, James Stayer admitted that in the second half of the sixteenth century the surviving Anabaptist traditions—Swiss Brethren, Hutterites, and Mennonites—came to adopt the position of The Schleitheim Articles on the sword of government, but argued that initially Anabaptist positions on this topic varied widely. In addition to those who turned their backs entirely on coercive secular authority (Grebel, Sattler, the Hutterites), there were those who called for its close integration with the work of the church (Hubmaier), and those who adopted a position somewhere in between (Marpeck, Hoffman, and Menno).54 Recently, Arnold Snyder has taken Stayer’s analysis a step further, arguing that even among the Swiss Brethren, Hubmaier’s position was 302

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 302

12/19/2000 10:05:44 AM

Radical Theology

initially not nearly so isolated as heretofore thought, and that even after 1527 the stance of Schleitheim did not hold the sway Stayer conceded to it.55 In all forms of Anabaptist primitivism, scripture looms large as a source of information about the apostolic, and hence the true, church. However, Anabaptists were not simply biblical literalists, as is so often assumed. Rather, they insisted that the Spirit must inform true interpretation of scripture, although points of disagreement among them arose over the extent of the Spirit’s role in that process. Initially Anabaptist groups coalesced around three points on the spirit/letter continuum: those who emphasized the letter over the Spirit, those privileging the Spirit over the letter, and those who tried to integrate the prophetic spirit with the prophetic letter. Gradually all Anabaptist groups adopted a position granting primacy to the letter of scripture. This stance, taken up by Swiss Anabaptism in its first generation and in the other Anabaptist traditions in the second generation, tended toward a Christocentric hermeneutic and an emphasis on the authority of the New Testament over that of the Old. It also leaned toward a radical sola scriptura principle which insisted only that which is explicitly commanded in scripture should be adopted as a principle of reform. Those emphasizing the role of the Spirit over that of the letter, among whom were a number of individuals to be discussed shortly as Spiritualist Anabaptists as well as some of the followers of Hans Hut, tended more toward a flat Bible exegesis, although they gave de facto precedence to the New Testament through their call for obedience to a higher spiritual law manifested more clearly in it. The Anabaptists who attempted to integrate prophetic spirit with prophetic letter were some of the most colorful and tragic characters of the Radical Reformation, including Hans Hut, Melchior Hoffman, and a number of leaders from Anabaptist Münster. Convinced that they were living in the last days, their integration of spirit and letter led to a focus on prophetic texts of scripture, often exegeted with innovative interpretive techniques, and allowing for, among other things, the sometimes rather bizarre revival of Old Testament practices at Münster.56 Like Karlstadt and Müntzer, the early Anabaptists took the interpretation of scripture, and with it religious authority, out of the hands of the learned divines and placed it in the hands of the spirit-filled lay person—the requirements for the true interpreter of scripture were possession of the Spirit and an outward life that bore witness to one’s inner spiritual renewal. Initially models for the exercise of authority within congregations varied from an emphasis on the authority of the congregation, in which the pastor was seen as a servant of the community (Swiss Brethren) to a form of charismatic authoritarianism based on possession of the Spirit (Hoffman). In all cases, these positions were rooted in the wide-ranging anticlericalism which according to Hans-Jürgen Goertz drove Anabaptism from its inception, and which reached its most extreme manifestation in Esslingen where formal leadership of the 303

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 303

12/19/2000 10:05:44 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

congregation was done away with completely. However, as surviving groups of Anabaptists moved toward “respectable nonconformity” as the sixteenth century progressed, we see the reassertion of a distinct pastoral role, usually exercised by leaders who devoted themselves to the study of scripture, within the Anabaptist traditions.57 Anabaptists, like most citizens of the sixteenth century, believed that they were living in the last days. Assumptions that they had a heightened sense of eschatology, and that this made them particularly zealous missioners, appear to be confirmed in the cases of Hans Hut and Melchior Hoffman. Both men evangelized extensively and baptized widely in anticipation of Christ’s imminent return, which Hut expected on Pentecost 1528 and Hoffman in 1533. By way of contrast, Swiss Anabaptists inherited a relatively mild eschatological interest from the Zurich Reformation. Eschatological concerns may have played a role in some of the more colorful events of the age, as in June 1525 when Anabaptists from the village of Zollikon entered Zurich and called for the city’s repentance, but this was the exception rather than the rule.58 The early Zurich radicals avoided specific speculation about the last days, and Hubmaier spoke of the coming judgment in only general terms. Similarly, although Schleitheim’s separatism is usually regarded as a strategy anticipating an imminent day of judgment, Michael Sattler was not specific about the calendar of the end times, and he discouraged others from further speculation. It appears, rather, that the primary motivation for Swiss Anabaptist calls to evangelization derived more from the apostolate of the primitive church as described in Mathew 28.19–20 and Mark 16.15–16. Although the predictions of Hut and Hoffman were ultimately discredited, eschatological concerns may have continued to play a role in the evangelizing of other Anabaptists, including the vigorous missionary activity of the Hutterites.59 Spiritualists and Spiritualist Anabaptists According to Emmet McLaughlin, the Reformation as a whole “spiritualized” medieval Catholicism—that is, it removed any form of material mediation between God and man. As a result, he prefers to label as radical Spiritualists those reformers more commonly known as Spiritualists.60 Alongside the radical Spiritualists there were those who dabbled in Anabaptism for a time before ultimately rejecting or qualifying some of its central teachings in favor of a more clearly Spiritualist reforming vision. In defining this Spiritualist Anabaptism, some scholars focus on a distinct group of individuals associated with south German and Austrian Anabaptism: Hans Denck, Ludwig Hätzer, Christian Entfelder, Johannes Bünderlin, and Jacob Kautz. Other scholars treat this as a less cohesive, but more comprehensive phenomenon, recurring pretty well wherever Anabaptism did, and add to the list of members such diverse characters as the Silesian Anabaptist leader Gabriel 304

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 304

12/19/2000 10:05:44 AM

Radical Theology

Ascherham, and the north German/Dutch Anabaptist leaders Obbe Philips and David Joris.61 Like other radicals, the Spiritualists and Spiritualist Anabaptists challenged the Reformation for its failure to produce a moral improvement in society. Behind their criticisms lay a soteriology, which, while generally accepting the primacy of grace and faith in salvation, placed much greater emphasis on the fruits of faith than did Luther and the other Wittenberg reformers. As a result, they also rejected Luther’s teachings on the bondage of the will and predestination, and emphasized more the role of sanctification in justification. However, behind this apparent unanimity were some significant disagreements. For example, Schwenkfeld saw union with the divine Christ as so essential for salvation that he was willing to flirt with Docetism, arguing that God was the father of both Christ’s divinity and his humanity, and that Mary served merely as a nurturing mother who contributed nothing to the essence of the heavenly flesh. By way of contrast, for Denck, the historical Jesus served a largely pedagogical function. His primary purpose was to serve as an example of the fulfillment of the Law, rather than to release his followers from its strictures.62 Based on this concern with moral improvement, one would expect a focus on the community as watchdog on the lives of its members. Initially this appears to have been the case in some instances. For example, while still a Lutheran pastor, Sebastian Franck had called on the Nuremberg city council to establish a communal version of the ban. Quickly, though, Franck became an opponent of all organized religious groups, arguing that the visible church had fallen and would not be restored until Christ’s second coming. Johannes Bünderlin and Obbe Philips adopted similar positions, but other Spiritualists and Spiritualist Anabaptists came to subtly, but significantly different, conclusions about the visible church. Schwenkfeld and Entfelder shared Franck’s focus on individual regeneration as the work of the Spirit, as well as his conviction that the church of Christ had ceased to exist on earth. However, they assigned a greater role to the religious community as a testimony to, and manifestation of, spiritual rebirth, and allowed for the possible restitution of the visible church of Christ not only with the second coming, but also before at the hands of a divinely commissioned reformer.63 Not surprisingly, Schwenkfeld left behind spiritual heirs as an organized group while Franck did not. In most cases with the visible church went the sacraments as well, and Spiritualists and Spiritualist Anabaptists willingly dispensed with the connection of signum and res in the sacraments, which the Anabaptists struggled to maintain. According to Hans Denck, baptism is nothing more than the symbol of a covenant with God, by which the believer agrees to die with Christ to the Old Adam, and the Lord’s Supper a spiritual eating and drinking of Christ’s body and blood which fosters union with Christ. Although 305

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 305

12/19/2000 10:05:44 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

describing believers’ baptism as a reception into the fellowship of believers, he treats it as unnecessary and encourages avoidance if it draws believers away from spiritual baptism. This laid the basis for a possible discarding of ceremonies, a stance it appears Denck adopted with reference to baptism in his “recantation” toward the end of his life.64 Other Spiritualists and Spiritualist Anabaptists were often even more explicit and forceful in their rejection of external ceremonies. They defined them as, at best, merely signs pointing to an inner spiritual event, and at worst, a source of dissension and even an impediment to the spiritual event they were supposed to signify. Even Schwenkfeld, who had a greater reverence for the sacraments, especially the Lord’s Supper, which he saw as the nexus where Christ’s righteousness was infused into the soul of the believer, called for a Stillstand on the Eucharist in 1526 and, after his experience with the Strasbourg Anabaptists, on baptism as well.65 This willingness to jettison the visible, external aspects of the religious life led Ernst Troeltsch to characterize the Spiritualists as “individualistic and ahistorical.” Yet the most influential history written by a Reformation radical was Sebastian Franck’s Chronica oder Geschichtsbibel. Franck’s work is in some ways the culmination of a developing vision of salvation history shared by Spiritualists and Spiritualist Anabaptists with important parallels to the visions of Karlstadt and Müntzer. In the thought of Denck and Schwenkfeld, limited historical arguments and references suggest an underlying vision of the growing spiritual maturation of humanity. In the hands of Franck, Entfelder, and Bünderlin, and to a lesser extent Joris, this vision becomes an elaborate scheme of world history, culminating in the dawning age of the Spirit. In every case, these visions had important implications for understandings of the apostolic church and its restitution. All of these thinkers regarded the church of the apostles as at best a qualified model for reform. Forced to rely on external elements and ceremonies as a concession to the spiritual immaturity of the age, it could stand as an ideal only insofar as it appeared as a pneumatic community. Franklin Littell had suggested that primitivism and historical interests were closely tied to a sectarian ecclesiology. The cases especially of Franck, Bünderlin, and Entfelder suggest that challenges to that ecclesiology were at least as effective in encouraging historical reflection as defenses of it.66 Behind both the commonalities and differences among the Spiritualists and Spiritual Anabaptists was an appeal to the Spirit over the letter as a medium for knowledge of the divine. This is not to say that these thinkers universally denied the validity of revelation in scripture. Denck described scripture as the greatest treasure given to mankind. However, he refused to identify it directly as the Word of God and he warned that undue reliance on the text could be destructive and that it was even responsible for sectarian divisions within the ancient church. Furthermore, he insisted that the presence of the Spirit in 306

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 306

12/19/2000 10:05:45 AM

Radical Theology

the believer’s heart was crucial for a proper interpretation of the text. While ostensibly a flat Bible theologian, assigning the Old and New Testaments equal value, Denck privileged the New Testament with his demand that all of scripture be interpreted in light of the divine principle of love underlying both testaments.67 Others took as their starting points both the distinction between the Word and scripture and, in most cases, the charge that biblical literalism was responsible for divisiveness and sectarianism.68 This concern with the baneful effects of reliance on scripture and its interpretation involved as well a wide-ranging distrust of the exercise of authority in religious matters. Even more than among the Anabaptists, the appeal of these reformers to the Spirit was anticlerical and spiritually and intellectually, if not socially, egalitarian. Naturally, this involved criticism of the intervention of secular authority into matters of faith, and some recent studies have characterized Spiritualism as a response by intellectual and political elites to the confessionalist activities of the state churches.69 For example, Schwenkfeld dismissed state churches as the work of the devil. As advocates of toleration, Spiritualists and Spiritualist Anabaptists in general regarded religious beliefs held as a result of compulsion as an oxymoron. In one respect, though, Schwenkfeld stood alone, basing his argument for toleration not on the freedom of the believer, but of the Holy Spirit, which blows where it will. As a result, he argues, since faith is inspired and owes nothing to the human will, coercion is senseless.70 Nor should faith be compelled by those we would characterize as religious leaders. Even David Joris, who began his reforming career convinced that he was the apocalyptic restorer of all things in the tradition of Hoffman’s “charismatic authoritarianism,” gradually revised his perception of his role to that of enlightened teacher as he entered his more Spiritualist phase.71 Not surprisingly, this environment was not conducive to evangelizing in the traditional sense of the term, and Spiritualists and Spiritualist Anabaptists may have gravitated to the printed word as the medium to disseminate their message because of the more active role it granted their readers in their search for the truth.72

Conclusions The theology of those we designate as radicals of the Reformation is intimately connected to the initial popular response to Luther’s reforming message. As such, it both deepened and extended the theology of the communal Reformation. Its starting point was disenchantment with the consequences of Luther’s soteriology. Radical theologians, although accepting the primacy of grace and faith in the process of coming to salvation, universally rejected the implications Luther drew from this about predestination and bondage of the will. Ironically, then, the radicals’ departure from the theology of the 307

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 307

12/19/2000 10:05:45 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

magisterial Reformation was rooted in a more conservative soteriology, but a soteriology identified in the communal Reformation with the kernel of the Gospel message. With their criticism of the Reformation’s failure to effect moral improvement went a criticism of infant baptism, the source of many of the church’s current ills in the eyes of the radicals. Some took the next step of instituting believers’ baptism, but this was not universal, and many of the Spiritualists and Spiritualist Anabaptists saw in the disputes about baptism and other ceremonies which arose among fellow radicals merely a continuation of the wrangling and failures of the magisterial Reformation. For the most part, the approach of the radicals to the sacraments was rooted in a Spiritualism which denied their role in objectively imparting divine grace; in this they truly were children of the Reformation. In some cases, most notably those of Müntzer and Schwenkfeld, their sacramental theologies were less radically Spiritualist than that of Zwingli. However, all were agreed that correct understanding of scripture required the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, and all turned this teaching against the claims of the priests and the Reformation pastors to monopolize scriptural interpretation. In this way, the Reformation radicals’ appeal to sola scriptura and teaching on the priesthood of all believers resonated with the anticlericalism of the age. For all of the radicals, as for many of their contemporaries, the image of the primitive church as a model for reform exercised a powerful pull. However, the actual characteristics of that model were not universally agreed upon, and these disagreements could lead to serious acrimony among those grouped together as radicals. Furthermore, while most radicals could eventually be described as committed to a restitution of the primitive church distinct from a reformation of the existing church, the definition of that restitution only developed gradually, and the nature of the church to be restored was not universally agreed on. In the eyes of many of the radicals, restitution presupposed keeping secular authorities, and any form of coercion, out of matters of faith. And it appears that as the confessionalist agendas of the state churches hardened, this criticism became more appealing. Furthermore, at the outset opinions about secular authority and its place in religious affairs ran the gamut from the radical separatism and pacifism of The Schleitheim Articles to the appeals for support by Müntzer and Karlstadt, or attempts to implement an Anabaptist Reformation by Hubmaier and the leadership at Münster. Similarly, there was wide variation among the radicals in the level of eschatological expectation and speculation. In some cases, as with Hans Hut and Melchior Hoffman, heightened eschatological expectations encouraged missionary zeal, but in others, as with the Hutterites, expectation of the last days was only one component feeding into that zeal.

308

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 308

12/19/2000 10:05:45 AM

Radical Theology

Bibliography Primary Sources Baylor, Michael (ed. and trans.). The Radical Reformation. Cambridge Texts in the History of Political Thought. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991. The Chronicle of the Hutterian Brethren, vol. 1. Rifton, NY: Plough Publishing House, 1987. Denck, Hans. Selected Writings, ed. and trans. Edward J. Furcha with Ford Lewis Battles. Pittsburgh, PA: Pickwick Press, 1975. Dyck, Cornelius J., William E. Keeney, and Alvin J. Beachy (eds and trans). The Writings of Dirk Philips, 1504-1568 (Classics of the Radical Reformation, 6). Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1992. Fast, Heinold (ed.). Der linke Flügel der Reformation: Glaubenszeugnisse der Täufer, Spiritualisten, Schwärmer und Antitrinitarier. Bremen: Carl Schünemann Verlag, 1962. Franck, Sebastian. Chronica, Zeitbuch und Geschichtsbibel (Ulm, 1536; photo reprint edn). Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1969. Franz, Günther (ed.). Thomas Müntzer: Schriften und Briefe. Kritische Gesamtausgabe (Quellen und Forschungern zur Reformationsgeschichte, 33). Gütersloh: Gerd Mohn, 1968. Friesen, John J. (ed. and trans.). Peter Riedemann’s Hutterite Confession of Faith (Classics of the Radical Reformation, 9). Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 1999. Furcha, Edward J. (ed. and trans.). The Essential Carlstadt. Fifteen Tracts by Andreas Bodenstein (Carlstadt) from Karlstadt (Classics of the Radical Reformation, 8). Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1995. Harder, Leland (ed.). The Sources of Swiss Anabaptism: The Grebel Letters and Related Documents (Classics of the Radical Reformation, 4). Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1985. Hertsch, Erich (ed.). Karlstadts Schriften aus den Jahren 1523–25. 2 vols. Halle: Max Niemeyer, 1956/57. Klaassen, Walter (ed.). Anabaptism in Outline: Selected Primary Sources (Classics of the Radical Reformation, 3). Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1981. Klassen, William and Walter Klaassen (eds and trans). The Writings of Pilgram Marpeck (Classics of the Radical Reformation, 2). Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1978. Klaassen, Walter, Werner Packull, and John Rempel (trans). Later Writings by Pilgram Marpeck and His Circle. Vol. 1: The Exposé, A Dialogue, and Marpeck’s Response to Caspar Schwenkfeld (Anabaptist Texts in Translation, 1). Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 1999. Matheson, Peter (ed. and trans.). The Collected Works of Thomas Müntzer. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1988. Pipkin, H. Wayne and John H. Yoder (eds and trans). Balthasar Hubmaier: Theologian of Anabaptism (Classics of the Radical Reformation, 5). Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1989. Quellen zur Geschichte der [Wieder] Täufer (Quellen und Forschungen zur Reformationsgeschichte; 16 vols). Leipzig and Gütersloh: Hensius/Bertelsmann/ Gerd Mohn, 1930–.

309

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 309

12/19/2000 10:05:45 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology Quellen zur Geschichte der Täufer in der Schweiz. 3 vols. Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 1952–. Schwenkfeld, Caspar. Corpus Schwenkfeldianorum. 19 vols. Leipzig: Breitkopf and Härtel, 1907–61. Snyder, C. Arnold (ed.). Biblical Concordance of the Swiss Brethren, 1540, trans. Gilbert Fast and Galen A. Peters (Anabaptist Texts in Translation, 2). Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 2001. —. Sources of South German/Austrian Anabaptism, trans. Walter Klaassen, Frank Friesen, and Werner O. Packull (Classics of the Radical Reformation, 10). Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 2001. Stupperich, Robert (ed.). Die Schriften Bernhard Rothmanns. Münster: Aschendorffsche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1970. Waite, Gary K. (ed. and trans.). The Anabaptist Writings of David Joris, 1535–1543 (Classics of the Radical Reformation, 7). Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1993. Williams, George H. and Angel M. Mergal (eds and trans). Spiritualist and Anabaptist Writers: Documents Illustrative of the Radical Reformation. Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1957. Yoder, John H. (ed. and trans.). The Legacy of Michael Sattler (Classics of the Radical Reformation, 1). Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1973. Ziegelschmid, A. J. F. (ed.). Die älteste Chronik der Hutterischen Brüder. Ein Sprachdenkmal aus frühneuhochdeutscher Zeit. Ithaca, NY: Cayugan Press, 1946.

Secondary Sources Armour, Rollin Stely. Anabaptist Baptism: A Representative Study (Studies in Anabaptist and Mennonite History, 11). Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1966. Bainton, Roland H. “The Left Wing of the Reformation.” The Journal of Religion, 21 (1941): 124–34. Bauman, Clarence. The Spiritual Legacy of Hans Denck: Interpretation and Translation of Key Texts (Studies in Medieval and Reformation Thought, 47). Leiden: Brill, 1991. Barge, Hermann. Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt. 2 vols. Leipzig: Friedrich Brandstetter, 1905. Beachy, Alvin J. The Concept of Grace in the Radical Reformation. Nieuwkoop: De Graaf, 1977. Bergsten, Torsten. Balthasar Hubmaier. Anabaptist Theologian and Martyr, ed. William R. Estep. Valley Forge, PA: Judson Press, 1978. Bender, Harold S. “The Anabaptist Vision.” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 18 (1944): 67–88. Biesecker-Mast, Gerald. Separation and the Sword in Anabaptist Persuasion: Radical Confessional Rhetoric from Schleitheim to Dordrecht (The C. Henry Smith Series, 6). Telford, PA: Cascadia Publishing, 2006. Blickle, Peter. Communal Reformation. The Quest for Salvation in Sixteenth-Century Germany, trans. Thomas Dunlop. Atlantic Highlands, NJ and London: Humanities Press, 1992. Blough, Neal. Christ in Our Midst: Incarnation, Church and Discipleship in the Theology of Pilgram Marpeck (Anabaptist and Mennonite Studies, 8). Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 2007.

310

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 310

12/19/2000 10:05:45 AM

Radical Theology Boyd, Stephen B. Pilgram Marpeck: His Life and Social Theology (Duke Monographs in Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 12). Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1992. Brady, Thomas A., Jr., Heiko A. Oberman, and James D. Tracy (eds). Handbook of European History, 1400–1600: Late Middle Ages, Renaissance, and Reformation (2 vols). Vol. 2: Visions, Programs, and Outcomes. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1996. Brand, Paul. “Print and the Knowledge of God: The Development of a Spiritualist Epistemology in the Early German Reformation” unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of York, 2007). Bräuer, Siegfried and Helmar Junghans (eds). Der Theologe Thomas Müntzer. Untersuchungen zu seiner Entwicklung und Lehre. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1989. Bubenheimer, Ulrich. Thomas Müntzer: Herkunft und Bildung (Studies in Medieval and Reformation Thought, 46). Leiden: Brill, 1989. Clasen, Claus-Peter. Anabaptism: A Social History, 1525–1618. Switzerland, Austria, Moravia, and South and Central Germany. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1972. Deppermann, Klaus. Melchior Hoffman. Social Unrest and Apocalyptic Visions in the Age of Reformation, ed. Benjamin Drewery and trans. Malcolm Wren. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1987. Dipple, Geoffrey. “Sebastian Franck in Strasbourg.” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 73 (1999): 783–802. —. “Just as in the time of the apostles”: Uses of History in the Radical Reformation. Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 2005. Erb, Peter (ed.). Schwenkfeld and Early Schwenkfeldianism: Papers Presented at the Colloquium on Schwenkfeld and the Schwenkfelders. Pennsburg, PA: Schwenkfelder Library, 1986. Finger, Thomas N. A Contemporary Anabaptist Theology: Biblical, Historical, and Constructive. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2004. Friedmann, Robert. The Theology of Anabaptism: An Interpretation. Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1973. Friesen, Abraham. Thomas Muentzer, a Destroyer of the Godless: The Making of a Sixteenth-Century Religious Revolutionary. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1990. —. Erasmus, the Anabaptists, and the Great Commission. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998. Goertz, Hans-Jürgen. Thomas Müntzer: Apocalyptic Mystic and Revolutionary, ed. Peter Matheson and trans. Jocelyn Jaquiery. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1993. Goertz, Hans-Jürgen (ed.). Umstittenes Täufertum 1525: Neue Forschungen. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1975. —. Profiles of Radical Reformers: Biographical Sketches from Thomas Müntzer to Paracelsus (English edn), ed. Walter Klaassen. Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1982. Goertz, Hans-Jürgen and James M. Stayer (eds). Radikalität und Dissent im 16. Jahrhundert/Radicalism and Dissent in the Sixteenth Century (Zeitschrift für historische Forschung, Beiheft 27). Berlin: Duncker and Humblot, 2002. Gross, Leonard. The Golden Years of the Hutterites. The Witness and Thought of the Communal Moravian Anabaptists during the Walpot Era, 1565–1578 (Studies in Anabaptist and Mennonite History, 23). Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1980.

311

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 311

12/19/2000 10:05:45 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology Hayden-Roy, Patrick. The Inner Word and the Outer World: A Biography of Sebastian Franck (Renaissance and Baroque Studies and Texts, 7). New York: Peter Lang, 1994. Hegler, Alfred. Geist und Schrift bei Sebastian Franck. Eine Studie zur Geschichte des Spiritualismus in der Reformationszeit. Freiburg: J.C.B. Mohr, 1892. Hillerbrand, Hans (ed.), Radical Tendencies in the Reformation: Divergent Perspectives (Sixteenth Century Essays and Studies, 9). Kirksville, MO: Sixteenth Century Journal Publishers, 1988. Horst, Irvin B. (ed.). The Dutch Dissenters. A Critical Companion to their History and Ideas (Kerkhistorische bijdragen, 13). Leiden: Brill, 1986. Keeney, William Echard. The Development of Dutch Anabaptist Thought and Practice from 1539–1564 Nieuwkoop: B. De Graaf, 1968. Klaassen, Walter. “Spiritualization in the Reformation.” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 37 (1963): 67–77. —. Anabaptism: Neither Catholic nor Protestant. Waterloo, ON: Conrad Press, 1973. —. Living at the End of the Ages. Apocalyptic Expectations in the Radical Reformation. Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1992. Klassen, William. Covenant and Community: The Life, Writings, and Hermeneutics of Pilgram Marpeck. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1968. Klassen, William and Walter Klaassen. Marpeck. A Life of Dissent and Conformity (Studies in Anabaptist and Mennonite History, 44). Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 2008. Liechty, Daniel. Andreas Fischer and the Sabbatarian Anabaptists: An Early Reformation Episode in East Central Europe (Studies in Anabaptist and Mennonite History, 29). Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1988. Littell, Franklin H. The Origins of Sectarian Protestantism: A Study of the Anabaptist View of the Church. New York: Macmillan, 1964. Maier, Paul. Caspar Schwenkfeld on the Person and Work of Christ: A Study of Schwenkfeldian Theology at its Core. Assen: Van Gorcum, 1959. McLaughlin, R. Emmet. Caspar Schwenkfeld, Reluctant Radical: His Life to 1540. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1986. —. The Freedom of the Spirit, Social Privilege, and Religious Dissent: Caspar Schenkfeld and the Schwenkfelders (Bibliotheca Dissidentium Scriptura et Studia, 6). BadenBaden: V. Koerner, 1996. —. “Apocalypticism and Thomas Müntzer.” Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte, 95 (2004): 98–131. McNiel, William. ”Andreas von Karlstadt and Thomas Müntzer: Relatives in Theology and Reformation” unpublished doctoral dissertation, Queen’s University, 1999). Müller, Jan-Dirk (ed.). Sebastian Franck (1492–1542). Wiesbaden: Harrasowitz Verlag, 1993. Oyer, John S. Lutheran Reformers against Anabaptists: Luther, Melanchthon and Menius and the Anabaptists of Central Germany. The Hague: Nijhoff, 1964. Packull, Werner O. Mysticism and the Early South German-Austrian Anabaptist Movement 1525–1531 (Studies in Anabaptist and Mennonite History, 19). Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1977. —. Hutterite Beginnings. Communitarian Experiments during the Reformation. Baltimore, MD and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995.

312

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 312

12/19/2000 10:05:45 AM

Radical Theology —. Peter Riedemann: Shaper of the Hutterite Tradition (Anabaptist and Mennonite Studies, 7). Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 2007. Packull, Werner and Geoffrey Dipple (eds). Radical Reformation Studies: Essays Presented to James M. Stayer (St Andrews Studies in Reformation History). Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999. Pater, Calvin Augustine. Karlstadt as the Father of the Baptist Movements: The Emergence of Lay Protestantism. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984. Pipkin, H. Wayne (ed.). Essays in Anabaptist Theology. Elkhart, IN: Institute of Mennonite Studies, 1994. Preus, James S. Carlstadt’s Ordinaciones and Luther’s Liberty: A Study of the Wittenberg Movement 1521–1522. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1974. Roth, John D. and James M. Stayer (eds). A Companion to Anabaptism and Spiritualism, 1521–1700 (Brill’s Companions to the Christian Tradition, 6). Leiden: Brill, 2007. Schlachta, Astrid von. “ ‘Searching through the Nations.’ Tasks and Problems of Sixteenth Century Hutterian Missions.” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 74 (2000): 27–49. Scott, Tom. Thomas Müntzer: Theology and Revolution in the German Reformation. New York: St Martin’s Press, 1989. Sider, Ronald J. Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt. The Development of his Thought 1517– 1525 (Studies in Medieval and Reformation Thought, 11). Leiden: Brill, 1974. Snyder, C. Arnold. The Life and Thought of Michael Sattler (Studies in Anabaptist and Mennonite History, 27). Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1984. —. Anabaptist History and Theology: An Introduction. Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 1995. —. “The Birth and Evolution of Swiss Anabaptism, 1520–1530.” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 80 (2006): 501–645. Stayer, James M. Anabaptists and the Sword. Lawrence, KS: Coronado Press, 1972. —. The German Peasants’ War and Anabaptist Community of Goods (McGill-Queen’s Studies in the History of Religion, 6). Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1991. —. “Saxon Radicalism and Swiss Anabaptism: The Return of the Repressed.” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 67 (1993): 5–30. Stayer, James M., Werner O. Packull, and Klaus Deppermann. “From Monogenesis to Polygenesis: The Historical Discussion of Anabaptist Origins.” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 49 (1975): 83–122. Stayer, James M. and Werner O. Packull (eds and trans). The Anabaptists and Thomas Müntzer. Dubuque, IA: Kendall Hunt, 1980. Strübind, Andrea. Eifriger als Zwingli: Die frühe Täuferbewegung in der Schweiz. Berlin: Duncker and Humblot, 2003. Vice, Roy L. “Ehrenfried Kumpf, Karlstadt’s Patron and Peasants’ War Rebel.” Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte, 86 (1995): 153–74. —. “Valentin Ickelsamer’s Odyssey from Rebellion to Quietism.” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 69 (1995): 75–92. Vogler, Günter. Thomas Müntzer. Berlin: Dietz Verlag, 1989. Waite, Gary K. David Joris and Dutch Anabaptism 1524–1543. Waterloo, ON: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1990.

313

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 313

12/19/2000 10:05:45 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology Weaver, J. Denny. “Reading Sixteenth-Century Anabaptism Theologically: Implications for Modern Mennonites as a Peace Church.” Conred Grebel Review (Winter 1998): 37–51. Williams, George H. The Radical Reformation (3rd edn). Kirksville, MO: Sixteenth Century Journal Publishers, 1992. Yoder, John Howard. Anabaptism and Reformation in Switzerland. An Historical and Theological Analysis of the Dialogues between Anabaptists and Reformers, ed. C. Arnold Snyder (Anabaptist and Mennonite Studies, 4). Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 2004. Zeman, Jarold K. The Anabaptists and the Czech Brethren in Moravia 1526–1628: A Study of Origins and Contacts. The Hague/Paris: Mouton, 1969.

314

9780567033604_Ch17_Final_txt_print.indd 314

12/19/2000 10:05:46 AM

18

Images and Iconoclasm Randall C. Zachman

The question of the role of images and icons in Christian worship came to be one of the most sharply and passionately contested issues of the reformation movements in the sixteenth century. The initial wave of the criticism of images in places of worship begins in 1501, with the publication of the Enchiridion of the Militant Christian by Desiderius Erasmus.1 In this work Erasmus sets forth a vision of the Christian life that is primarily occupied with developing the virtues of the mind and soul, in fulfillment of the baptismal vow to die to the vices and affections that bind us to this world. Erasmus is convinced that the life of the Christian is to be directed from the visible to the invisible, from the temporal to the eternal, from the fleshly to the spiritual. In the process of encouraging and exhorting his reader to seek the spiritual in all things, Erasmus expresses his strong disapproval of those leaders in the Church, especially priests, monks, and doctors of theology, who set forth the summit of the Christian life in the external observance of sacraments and ceremonies, making pilgrimage to relics, and kissing and venerating images of Mary and the saints. His language can be so biting at times that he seems to be rejecting the use of ceremonies and images in worship altogether, and will consequently be cited by those who reject images as being in agreement with them. However, Erasmus never rejects the use of ceremonies and images, for he can see that they are useful aids to piety for the young and the weak in faith. His concern is that the leaders and spiritual guides of the Church not teach the people to cling to these observances as though they were the sum total of piety, but rather teach them to ascend from the external visible image to the internal spiritual reality. Erasmus cites the saying of Jesus that God is Spirit, and wishes to be worshipped in spirit and truth, taking this to mean that God seeks to be worshipped with our minds, since God is mind. The point is to teach the people to value the things of the mind and spirit vastly more than they do the things of flesh and externality, without rejecting externals in the process. If we honor the bones of Saint Paul in a shrine, how much more ought we to honor the mind of Paul set forth in his writings? If we honor the image of Christ in wood or stone, how much more ought we to revere the image of his mind that the Holy Spirit portrays in the Gospel? If we honor the images 315

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 315

12/19/2000 10:06:28 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

of the saints, how much more ought we to imitate their virtues in our minds, especially charity, humility, and patience? In order to encourage his readers to value the spirit more than the flesh, Erasmus will make a series of negations, stating that piety does not consist in how many times we attend Mass, or that charity is not burning candles or prostrating ourselves before the images of saints. These negations are meant to keep his readers from clinging to these observances so that they move from them to the spirit; they are not meant to be categorical rejections of these observances. However, other theologians after Erasmus who argue for the removal of images will cite these negations as evidence that he supports their position, even as their opponents will cite his allowance of the usefulness of images as evidence that he wanted them to be retained. Erasmus recognized himself in neither group, as his point was to exhort Christians who observe sacraments and ceremonies in an external and fleshly way to move from this orientation to an internal and spiritual observance, so that they might worship God in spirit and in truth. He was very distressed by the way that clergy and monks sought to emphasize external images, relics, and ceremonies for their own sake, so that they might profit monetarily by their observance, and might be thought to be exemplary holy people even though their minds were completely bound to this world. The beginning of the wholesale rejection of the presence and use of images in places of worship lay in Wittenberg, the center of the movement started by Martin Luther. Luther himself was not critical of images and pictures, and left them out of his account of his understanding of the idolatry brought into the Latin Church by the pope and his supporters. Luther claimed that the greatest idolatry lay in our trust in our works to merit grace and remove sin, focused most gravely in the Roman understanding of the Mass as a sacrifice for sin for the living and the dead. The rejection of images was introduced into the Wittenberg movement by Luther’s supporters while Luther was in hiding after the Diet of Worms, and culminated in the promulgation of ordinances by the Wittenberg City Council on January 24, 1522 which called for the removal of images from the churches in the city. Shortly after the passing of these ordinances, Luther’s colleague Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt wrote a treatise arguing for the theological necessity of the removal of all images from churches, called On the Removal of Images, published on January 27, 1522.2 Karlstadt makes his case against images from the teaching of the Word of God in Scripture, over against the errors of the pope, the monks, and the doctors of theology, who are leading the people into spiritual death. Scripture clearly teaches that God’s houses are to be places of worship in which God alone should be glorified, honored, and invoked, as may be seen in the dedication of the Temple in Jerusalem by Solomon. God especially wills to be worshipped by the complete dedication of our hearts to 316

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 316

12/19/2000 10:06:28 AM

Images and Iconoclasm

God in love. The placement of images in God’s house clearly runs contrary to the purpose of places of worship, for they reveal that we love images instead of God, and thereby bring upon ourselves spiritual death. Karlstadt became personally aware of his own love of images by the power of the teaching of the Word of God, and confessed that God dwelling in his heart was as small as his own fear of images was great, revealing that for him the love of images directly eradicated his love for God. Moreover, following the teaching of Hosea (and Augustine), we become like the things we love, and if God hates the things we love, then we who love these things will also be hated by God. Karlstadt is convinced that God hates images, and thus hates those who love them, on the basis of the first two commandments of the Law given on Sinai, which prohibit having any other God besides the Lord, and which prohibit the making and worship of images. Over against those who claim that the prohibition of images ended with the incarnation of the Son of God, Karlstadt claims that God, Moses, the prophets, Christ, and Paul all speak with one voice against the worship of God through images. Karlstadt is convinced that the placement of images in God’s house reveals that we worship and venerate alien gods rather than the true God, as was the case when the Israelites made golden calves and called them their gods who had delivered them out of Egypt. This is the primary reason God prohibits the use of images and pictures in God’s house. The behavior of worshippers in Karlstadt’s day reveals to him their worship of and devotion to the images they use in worship, for they bow and scrape and bend the knee before images, burn candles before them, and dedicate a large amount of wealth to their decoration and upkeep. Most seriously of all, they place their images on altars, which were created for the express purpose of calling on the name of God and offering sacrifices to God’s glory. The placement of images on the altars confirms the veneration and worship of idols and alien gods instead of the single-minded worship of the one true God. Karlstadt is aware that the defenders of images claim that it is not the image that is being worshipped and venerated, but the prototype of the image that receives worship. Karlstadt rejects this defense of images on several grounds. First, God declares that God hates images, and hence does not wish to be found through worship guided by images and pictures. Secondly, God cannot be represented, and hence no creature can be an image of God as the prototype. Third, the gestures and behavior of worshippers reveal that they worship the reality in the image, and make no distinction between image and prototype, for they offer their prayers to images, bring gifts to them, ascribe benefits received to them, make pilgrimage to them, sing songs to them for future benefits, and burn candles before them out of veneration. Finally, many images are of the saints, and none of the saints accepted veneration while they were alive, claiming only to be human beings who themselves worshipped 317

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 317

12/19/2000 10:06:28 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

the one true God. Why would the saints accept veneration through images when they have departed this life, when they rejected such veneration when they were alive? Karlstadt also takes on the related claim that images help to incite and foster the worship of God. Since God is Spirit, only the Spirit of God can rightly incite us to pray, and no creature may do this for us. Even if one were to gather into one place all the images used in worship, they would not inspire a single prayer. Moreover, Karlstadt claims that according to Scripture it is affliction, and not images, which is the real inspiration of prayer, as God is more fully glorified when we call upon God in the time of trouble and distress. Affliction takes away all our hope in creatures so that we cling to God alone, which is the opposite of calling upon God under the alleged inspiration of images. Karlstadt is also aware of the claim made by Gregory the Great that images are the Bible of the unlearned and illiterate. He rejects this claim on several grounds. First, God, Moses, and Christ all clearly state that we are to be taught by the Word of God, and not by images. Secondly, images are fleshly and bodily, and Christ clearly teaches that the flesh is of no avail, making images useless as teachers. The Word of God alone is spiritual and useful, and should alone be the teacher of Christians. Thirdly, even Karlstadt’s opponents agree that books alone instruct, while images do not. The prophet Isaiah reinforces this point by illustrating how images are teachers of falsehood, and are, therefore, useless as teachers. However, even if images could be found to be useful in teaching, Karlstadt claims that they cannot be used, for God clearly forbids their use. Finally, Karlstadt denies that images can be consoling to those who suffer, as exemplified by the practice of the Roman Church in giving the crucifix to those who are dying to comfort them. Karlstadt claims that one only learns about the human suffering of Christ from the crucifix, whereas the comfort comes from learning about the spiritual benefits of Christ’s death, which one can only learn from the Word of Christ, for that Word has a living spirit. One can only know Christ in a human way from images, whereas Paul calls us to know Christ in a spiritual way. Karlstadt concludes the treatise by exhorting the civil rulers on in their determination to remove images from the houses of God. Over against the Roman priests and bishops who might stop them, Karlstadt appeals to the examples of Hezekiah and Josiah, who removed images on their own authority and did not leave this up to the priests of their day. This reveals that civil authorities are over priests, and may act on this matter without their consent. Karlstadt also warns the magistrates that those who fail to take action against images face the same threat of punishment and death as that which confronted the kings of Israel and Judah when they did not act in haste to remove the images from their lands and temples. 318

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 318

12/19/2000 10:06:28 AM

Images and Iconoclasm

Martin Luther returned to Wittenberg in March of 1522 and preached a series of sermons from the 9th to the 16th that sought to roll back the changes that Karlstadt and others had made in his absence, among them the removal of images.3 Luther framed his discussion of this issue with his understanding of the combat with the devil that every individual experiences at the hour of his death. One can only defeat the devil by appealing to a certain and indisputable text of Scripture. If there is any uncertainty or room for dispute, the devil will pluck one away like a parched leaf. Luther then turns to the text to which the abolishers of images appeal, namely the prohibition of making and worshipping images in the second commandment. Luther claims that this text does not prohibit the making of images, but only their worship, as is evidenced by the making of the bronze serpent by Moses, as well as the cherubim over the mercy seat of the Ark. Given this uncertainty, Luther would not abolish images, unless they are worshipped, and then they should be put away and destroyed, as Hezekiah destroyed the bronze serpent when it was worshipped. However, over against Karlstadt’s claim that the mere presence of images in God’s house shows that they are worshipped, Luther denies that we can be certain that anyone worships the images, even as we cannot be certain anyone trusts in their own works instead of God’s mercy. Indeed, Luther can even imagine that images may be useful to some, even if it were but a few. Given this uncertainty, it is hard to see how images could ever be abolished or destroyed, which is precisely Luther’s point. Luther thinks that the idolatry represented by images lies not in mistaking them for the reality they represent—Luther does not think anyone can mistake a crucifix for God in heaven—but rather by thinking that by placing images in church one is doing God a service, which is something he accuses Karlstadt of completely missing. Hence the way to abolish images is not to remove them, but to preach that they are nothing before God, but are instead completely indifferent. One should instead teach that God commands us to use our gold to help our neighbors, which is a point with which Karlstadt would agree. Only such preaching removes idolatry from the heart, not the removal of images themselves. After all, people worshipped the sun, moon, and stars as divine, yet it is impossible to remove these from the sky. Hence even though Luther agrees with Karlstadt that images are evil because they are abused, he argues that the way to counter such abuse is by preaching that images are indifferent to God, not by taking the images out of the houses of God. Once people are taught that images count for nothing, they would fall of their own accord. With these sermons, Luther effectively brought all iconoclastic behavior in Wittenberg to an end. Karlstadt was also opposed by one of the major Roman adversaries of the Wittenberg reformers, Jerome Emser, who published That One Should Not Remove Images of the Saints from the Churches nor Dishonor Them and that 319

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 319

12/19/2000 10:06:29 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

They Are Not Forbidden in Scripture on April 2, 1522, as a direct rebuttal of Karlstadt’s treatise.4 Emser frames his rebuttal of Karlstadt by identifying him with the “heretics” Wycliffe and Hus, thereby demonstrating that his strategy will be to appeal to the conciliar decisions that have already condemned the attempts to remove images from the houses of God. According to Emser, Scripture itself neither condemns nor permits images in worship, echoing a point also made by Luther. However, unlike Luther, Emser claims that the indecisiveness of Scripture on the question means that one must appeal to the decision of the Church to settle the matter, beginning with popes, bishops, and prelates, and culminating with councils. The decision of councils is final and cannot be reopened for debate. Thus Emser’s approach is to show why the decision of the Church regarding images is legitimate and necessary, and why they should not be removed from the houses of God. Even though Emser knows of Luther’s sermons against Karlstadt a month earlier, he views Luther as being as serious an enemy of images as is Karlstadt, since in those sermons Luther expresses the wish that all images be removed after preaching that they are not a service to God. At the heart of Emser’s defense of the teaching of the Church is his understanding of the relationship of the visible to the invisible. Since, according to Aristotle, we are creatures who only come to know reality through our senses, we must come to an understanding of invisible spiritual reality by means of the visible world around us, which includes the images in places of Christian worship. The sight of the images of Christ, Mary, and the saints leads us from the visible, bodily image we see to the invisible, spiritual reality we do not see. For example, the visible sight of the crucifix leads us to spiritual observations of the suffering of Christ for us, which in turn awakens and strengthens our love for Christ, which is why the Church is right to place the crucifix before those who are dying. Moreover, the devotion awakened by and expressed in relation to the image passes from the image to the reality it represents, as stated by the Second Council of Nicea. The relationship between visible sign and invisible reality is present in both books and pictures, for letters and words themselves are simply visible signs that are related to invisible reality. Hence it makes no difference whether people learn about the truth through books or images, since both refer us to the Word and will of God. Emser sets forth ten reasons why the Fathers ruled that images should be used in Christian worship, and all of them relate to the dynamic relation between the visible image and the invisible reality to which the image refers, especially the way the sight of the image awakens devotion and love for God and the saints. The removal of images from the houses of God would therefore have the effect of removing veneration for God and the saints, for that which is out of sight is necessarily out of mind. This means that there is an eternal reason for images in the houses of God, since we are 320

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 320

12/19/2000 10:06:29 AM

Images and Iconoclasm

obligated to venerate and worship God and images remind us of this, and awaken such devotion within us. Emser also addresses the meaning of all of the prophetic denunciations of images to which Karlstadt appeals. According to Emser, there is a qualitative difference between the meaning and use of Jewish and Christian images on the one hand, and of pagan images on the other. Jewish and Christian images refer the viewer from the image to the one true God being represented, whereas pagan images are seen to be gods in and of themselves, and the gods are the false idols of paganism in all its forms. The prophetic denunciations all apply to the false idols of the pagans, and have nothing to do with the legitimate images of the Jews and Christians in their houses of God. Even were Karlstadt to produce a whole sack of prophetic texts denouncing idols, this does not prove that images are prohibited, since God commanded both Moses and Solomon to make images in places of worship. In the same week during which Luther was preaching against the removal of images in Wittenberg, Johannes Eck published a treatise defending the use of images in worship, entitled On Not Removing Images of Christ and the Saints (March 8, 1522).5 Unlike Emser, Eck did not write a polemical work against Karlstadt, but rather sought to strengthen the simple so that they would not stumble when they heard of the removal of images in Wittenberg. Like Emser, Eck accuses “those monsters Luther, Karlstadt, and Melanchthon” of reviving heresy, though he identifies them with the heresy of Felix of Urgel and not with Wycliffe and Hus, likely because the Council of Frankfort condemned Felix in 794. Eck grounds the legitimacy of the use of images on the theology of John of Damascus, and his distinction between the prohibition of images before the Incarnation, and the allowance of images after the Incarnation. Unlike Emser, Eck claims that the prohibition of images by Moses and the prophets was necessary due to the fact that God was only invisible during that time. Once the invisible God became visible in Christ, then the prohibition of images came to an end. Moreover, the prohibition of images was directed against the idolatrous impulses of the Jews. Since these impulses are no longer present in the Law of Grace, the Old Testament prohibition of images no longer obtains. The use of images in worship is therefore derived by Eck from the authority of Christ himself, and not from the authority of councils, as was done by Emser. Eck cites the story narrated by John of Damascus of the image Christ made of himself for Abgar, king of Edessa, as well as the image Christ made for Veronica on the cloth she gave to him on his way to the cross. Images also come from the unwritten tradition of the apostles, exemplified in the painting Luke made of the Virgin Mary. Finally, Eck shows that images have been part of the universal custom of the Church by appealing to the Emperor Constantine and the writings of Pseudo-Augustine. With the dominical and apostolic institution of images in place, Eck then proceeds to give reasons why 321

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 321

12/19/2000 10:06:29 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

the use of images is both useful and necessary. The first reason, which ought in itself to be sufficient, is that images are the books of the illiterate, and take the place of reading in holding the mysteries of the faith before their memory. The second reason comes from Basil via John of Damascus, namely that the devotion awakened in the soul by the image passes to the reality represented by the image. Third, images not only remind us of Christ, Mary, and the saints, but also stir us up to prayer and gratitude. Fourth, images challenge the faithful to live in imitation of the virtues they see in the saints, as well as the remedy for sin they see in the suffering of Christ. Finally, the best known reason has to do with the feelings of devotion that are awakened in the faithful by the images of the crucifix, Mary, and the saints. In sum, Eck grounds the usefulness of images in the way they teach, remind, and exhort, and he even appeals to pagan philosophers who speak of how images move human emotions, stimulate the powers of the mind, and strengthen the memory with regard to divine matters. Far from preventing the worship of God in spirit and in truth, images actually stimulate us in this manner. Images are to be retained because they instruct us and remind us of Christ and the saints. Karlstadt returned to the issue of images after his expulsion from Saxony, in his answer to the sermons Luther preached against him in Wittenberg in 1522. He published Whether One Should Proceed Slowly, and Avoid Offending the Weak in Matters that Concern God’s Will in Basel in November of 1524.6 In this work Karlstadt rejects Luther’s claim that preachers should allow images to remain out of love, lest the weak in faith should be offended and fall from faith. Karlstadt reiterates more forcefully than before that images are given to ensnare the people and cause them to fall and be destroyed, as Moses and the prophets ceaselessly teach. Since images are in themselves fatal, they should be taken away from the weak no matter what they say or do, lest they be destroyed by them. Karlstadt draws an analogy with a parent who sees her child playing with a knife—she will take the knife away no matter how the child responds. In the same way, Christ commands us to cut off whatever offends us, and so images should be removed as soon as possible, even if the weak are angry, weep, or curse, for anything else is a violation of love. Karlstadt also rejects Luther’s claim that images should first be removed from the heart by preaching before they are removed from the houses of God. None of the rulers of Israel preached against images before they destroyed them. However, Karlstadt goes beyond his earlier claim that the rulers have authority over clergy and hence should remove images, to claim that any Christian has this right, and is obliged to remove images as soon as possible, and need not appeal to temporal authority. Christians are to strike out freely and throw down whatever is against God, especially images and the Mass. Luther gave his fullest response to Karlstadt on the matter of images in his 1525 treatise, Against the Heavenly Prophets in the Matter of Images and 322

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 322

12/19/2000 10:06:29 AM

Images and Iconoclasm

Sacraments.7 Luther grounds his response to Karlstadt in the distinction he draws between the conscience and externals. According to Luther, the Gospel is exclusively concerned with freeing the conscience and setting it at peace, and is not at all concerned with externals such as images. These the Gospel leaves to temporal rulers, who alone have jurisdiction over externals such as images. By focusing on externals such as images, and by making godliness rest in the destruction of images, Karlstadt winds up binding consciences to law, sin, and works, which has the effect of murdering consciences. Moreover, by convincing Christians that they are freeing themselves from sin and death by destroying images, Karlstadt is actually creating idolatry in their hearts while removing images from their churches, for real idolatry for Luther lies in the conscience that trusts in its works to free itself from sin, death, and the devil. Luther, on the other hand, seeks to free the conscience from idolatry by preaching the Gospel, through which the Holy Spirit comes to set the conscience at rest. Once the conscience has been freed from trusting in externals such as works or images, by trusting in Christ alone, it does not matter if external images remain or are taken away. Luther is inconsistent in this regard, however, as he does not condemn the destruction of images that he considered to be per se idolatrous, such as those in Eichen, Grimmetal, and Birnbaum, but instead calls their destruction praiseworthy and good. In sum, Luther responds to Karlstadt’s charge that he is murdering souls by allowing images to remain on account of the weak in faith by charging Karlstadt with murdering souls by coercing their consciences with the Law, and by creating idolatry in their hearts by their trust that smashing images is a good work that frees them from sin, death, and the devil. Luther addresses the question of the legitimacy of images first from the perspective of the Law of Moses, and then from the Gospel of Christ. Luther reiterates the claim he made in his 1522 sermons that Moses does not prohibit images per se, but only the worship of images. The key to understanding this commandment lies in the statement that we are to have no other gods. If an image is not set up to be worshipped, it is not prohibited by this commandment. Luther rejects Karlstadt’s claim that to make an image is the same as to worship it by appealing to the memorials and testimonies made by Joshua and Samuel. Since these images were not set up for worship, they do not fall under the prohibition set forth in Exodus 20.3–4. Since crucifixes and images of the saints are not set up to be worshipped (presumably where the preaching of the Gospel is also to be found), then they are not condemned by Moses. Luther expresses his appreciation of the pedagogical function of images and pictures, citing their presence in his own German Bible, and expressing the wish that scenes from the Bible would be painted on the sides of houses, for the sake of remembrance and better understanding. He finds such pictures impossible to avoid even if one sticks solely to preaching and reading the 323

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 323

12/19/2000 10:06:29 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Word of God, as Karlstadt advises, for he cannot help but see a picture in his heart of the scene being described in Scripture, such as the crucifixion of Jesus. If it is not bad to have the image in the heart, why would it be bad to have the picture before one’s eyes, so long as it is there as a reminder, testimony, and memorial? Moses also places images and other externals under the sole authority of temporal rulers. Hence, if Christians come to the point where they agree that images should be removed, they should petition the authorities to do so, and wait on their decision. Since their faith in Christ removes the danger of worshipping the images, it makes no difference if the ruler grants the request or not. However, by exhorting Christians to act on their own without appealing to their rulers, Luther claims that Karlstadt is in fact fomenting revolution, for he is exhorting subjects to rise up against the authority of their rulers. Moreover, if Christians have the right and obligation to destroy images, then they also have the right and obligation to punish all evildoers, and to put murderers to death on their own. Luther sees a straight line from the destruction of images to the Peasant’s War, and claims that Karlstadt’s iconoclasm is directly fomenting such armed insurrection. When Luther moves from the Law to the Gospel, he categorically rejects Karlstadt’s claim that both teach the same prohibition of images. In fact, Luther claims that the Gospel completely abrogates the Law of Moses, and reveals that this Law was given only to the Jews. The only law that is binding on the Christian conscience is the law of nature written in every person’s heart. Anything that goes beyond this law, such as images, is free, null, and void. The Ten Commandments are still taught to Christians because they are the clearest presentation of the natural law—however, the Ten Commandments also contain laws not found in the natural law, such as images and the Sabbath, and these ceremonial laws are now abrogated and are no longer binding on Christian consciences. Luther appeals directly to Paul’s clear statements that the Sabbath has been completely abrogated, and charges Karlstadt with inconsistency, since he wants to follow the commandment prohibiting images while ignoring the commandment prescribing Sabbath observance. He also appeals to Paul to show that the prohibition of images and idols is also abrogated, since Paul allows believers to eat food sacrificed to idols, knowing that idols are nothing. If Karlstadt wants Christians to obey Moses with regard to images, then he will inevitably wind up placing them under obligation to the whole Law of Moses. It appears that Karlstadt’s concern with the idolatry of images was not entirely absent from Wittenberg after his departure, for one finds this theme arising in the theology of Philip Melanchthon. In his Apology of the Augsburg Confession, Melanchthon closely links the cult of the saints with the veneration of their images, leading believers to attribute magical powers to statues and 324

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 324

12/19/2000 10:06:29 AM

Images and Iconoclasm

images of the saints.8 He intensifies this claim in his Commentary on Romans of 1535, claiming that the invocation of God or the saints through the crucifix or statues has the effect of attributing divinity to these images, and of binding God to statues, a practice approved by both pope and emperor.9 The same claim is made in his Loci Communes of 1543: to invoke a creature like a departed saint is to attribute divine attributes like omnipotence to the creature, with the result that God is also bound to the image through which the saint is invoked.10 However, by focusing on the issue of invocation, and not on the presence of images in the houses of God, Melanchthon may be seen as clarifying Luther’s concern that images not be worshipped. If images are used for the invocation of God or saints, then they are idolatrous. It is significant, however, that Melanchthon associates idolatry with the invocation of creatures, whereas Luther identifies it with the trust of the conscience in creatures, including good works, masses and so on. Karlstadt may have lost his audience in Wittenberg, but he gained one in Zurich, primarily through the writing of Ludwig Haetzer. Haetzer was clearly inspired by Karlstadt’s 1522 writing against images, and wrote his own work based in large part on Karlstadt’s book, entitled The Judgment of God our Spouse on how One Should Hold Oneself Toward All Idols and Images, according to the Holy Scriptures, which was published in Zurich on September 24, 1523.11 The first and longest part of this book is made up completely of citations from the Old Testament concerning the prohibition of images. The first section is entitled, “God our Father and Spouse forbids us to make images,” and is followed by nine passages; the second section is entitled, “God intends to destroy images as well as those who possess and honor them,” and is followed by 19 passages; and the third section is entitled, “The deed of those who have done away with images and idols will be praised and glorified,” followed by five lengthy passages, mainly from 2 Kings. In the second part of the book, Haetzer sets forth the four primary reasons given by the Roman Church in support of the veneration of images, and gives his own refutation of each, again based largely on Karlstadt’s work. He appeals to Paul and Peter to show that the Old and New Testaments both teach the prohibition of images and idolatry. He claims that the veneration of saints is of itself a violation of the worship of God, and that the saints themselves rejected such veneration when they were alive. The gestures of worshippers before images also show that they do not rise from the image to the prototype, but seek the prototype in the image. He argues that the laity (not the illiterate) should read Scripture, and not learn through images. And finally he claims that God rejects the use of images to draw us closer to God, as only God can do so. Moreover, if we want to improve our lives, we should give freely to the poor, and not use our resources to decorate and venerate images and idols. Even though Haetzer’s work is derivative, it was much more effective than Karlstadt’s book in disseminating iconoclastic 325

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 325

12/19/2000 10:06:29 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

ideas, especially to Zurich, and seems to have been directly related to the rise of iconoclastic behavior in that city beginning in 1523. Ulrich Zwingli was compelled to respond to the role of images in worship due to the outbreak of iconoclastic behavior in Zurich and its environs in the early 1520s, fostered in part by the popularity of Ludwig Haetzer’s book on images. However, by 1525, Zwingli had developed his theological response to the role of images in worship primarily in light of his understanding of the distinction between true and false religion, set forth both in his Reply to Valentin Compar and his Commentary on True and False Religion of 1525.12 According to Zwingli, true religion involves trusting in the goodness and love of the Creator alone, and not hoping in any creature. False religion trusts in creatures, even when it sees such creatures as establishing their relationship with the Creator. The most vivid example of false religion would be the Roman Church, for it encourages its followers to trust in creatures as though they were divine, including not only saints and their images, but also the water of baptism and the bread and wine of the Eucharist, which are said to convey God to us. True religion begins to awaken in our hearts when God freely reveals Godself to us as Creator, for the knowledge of God can only come from the Spirit of God, and not from any creature, including Scripture or preaching. When the Spirit reveals the Creator to us, we realize that God is not a being that responds to human manipulation via sacraments and the like, but is rather self-giving goodness, which delights in giving itself to human beings. Once we come to know God as self-giving goodness, the Spirit goes on to reveal us to ourselves, showing us that we are the complete opposite of God. God does everything freely for others, with no thought of return, whereas human beings do everything for themselves, even when they claim to love God and others. Once our self-love is revealed to us, we despair of ourselves, and flee to the goodness of the Creator as our only refuge from ourselves. When we do so, however, we realize that God’s goodness includes God’s justice, and God’s justice blocks our access to God and demands satisfaction for our sin. At precisely this moment, when we have already despaired of ourselves and are about to despair of access to the goodness of God, God sends the Son to become human to die for us, to freely make satisfaction for our sin, and to open access to the goodness and love of God for us. The death of the Son for sinners therefore becomes the one infallible pledge of the love of God for us, and the sole object of trust and hope in the godly, for if God did not withhold His own Son, but handed him over for us all, will He not also with him give us everything else (Rom. 8.32)? Once the faithful have despaired of themselves and all creatures, and have taken refuge in their Creator who gave himself to them not only in creation but also ultimately in the death of Christ, they will no longer be interested at all in hoping in creatures. The degree to which Christians become interested 326

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 326

12/19/2000 10:06:29 AM

Images and Iconoclasm

in creatures is the degree to which they are no longer hoping in and loving God the Creator alone. Zwingli takes the point made by Emser that Moses prohibits both false gods and their images, but he claims that false gods are first conceived by the mind that hopes in creatures rather than the Creator, and that conceive of this creature as divine. The inevitable result of this false conception will be to create a picture, image, or statue of this false god that the mind has already portrayed to itself. Any god that can be conceived in this way is already the false god, for the true God is infinite and invisible goodness, and draws us away from all hope in creatures. Hence the presence of images in worship is the public manifestation of false gods already present in the heart. The Roman Church is doubly guilty on this account for Zwingli, for it first makes saints into deities in whom believers are to hope, and it then identifies these gods with their images, to whom divine honors and veneration are given, as demonstrated by the way its members kiss and prostrate themselves before images. Those who have true religion, and who trust in the Creator alone, would never want images in their places of worship, for they cannot tolerate anything that draws them from their hope in God to trust in creatures. Moreover, since they know that God is invisible, they know that God cannot be represented in images or paintings, nor can the divine nature of Christ be represented this way, but only his humanity, in which we are not to trust apart from his divinity. Images cannot teach us anything about God or Christ, and neither can Scripture, but only the Holy Spirit, who is freely given by God to those elected by God, both inside and outside the Church. Zwingli represents a qualitative advance in the argument against images, since he does not appeal to the authority of Scripture to argue that images should be removed from places of worship, but rather to the nature of God. Since God is self-giving goodness both as Creator and in Christ, believers despair of all trust and hope in creatures, including images and sacraments, and turn to the one true God alone. Since God is invisible, believers know that any god that can be conceived by the human mind and portrayed by human art is a false god. Since God alone reveals Godself through the Spirit, believers do not seek to be instructed by images, or even by Scripture, but only by God. Even if Scripture did not prohibit the presence of images in worship, believers would reject them in any case, for they know that God wants to be honored by giving freely to the poor in love, and not by decorating images with silver and gold. Like Luther, Zwingli thought that images should be removed in an orderly and nonviolent way, first by preaching, then by petitioning the civil authorities, and that all should be done out of love. However, unlike Luther, Zwingli thought that the actual removal of images was an immediate benefit to faith and piety, for it strengthened trust and hope in the Creator. Heinrich Bullinger, Zwingli’s successor in Zurich, continued the trajectory begun by Zwingli and based his argument against images on the nature 327

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 327

12/19/2000 10:06:29 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

of God, supported by the testimony of Scripture. In his Decades, Bullinger describes God as the only fountain and giver of all good things who desires to pour and bestow himself wholly on believers, and has done so in the sending of His only Son for us.13 Believers should therefore seek every good thing in God alone, and should take refuge in God alone, and not in creatures. God not only forbids the worship of false gods, but also the use of images in worship. Like Zwingli, Bullinger roots the making of images in the prior construction of a false god: the mind conceives an idol, and the hand brings forth an image. According to Bullinger, the prohibition of false gods and of images thus lies in the qualitative difference between God and creation. God is an incomprehensible power and an eternal spirit, who is immeasurable, incomprehensible, and unspeakable. Since God is utterly unlike anything in all creation, God cannot be represented in any image or picture. Bullinger supports this claim by citing extensively from Deuteronomy 4, Isaiah 40, and Acts 17, all of which show that God is not like silver, wood, or gold. Bullinger also appeals to the history of Israel and the early church, and claims that images were not present in churches during this time. These claims were further supported by Bullinger’s extensive work on the history of images in his book, On the Origin of Errors, first published in 1529 and vastly expanded in 1539. Since God is qualitatively unlike creatures, images cannot teach us about God, but can only teach falsehood. Christians are to be taught by the Holy Spirit through preaching, not through images. Moreover, believers should not seek the presence of God in images, since they themselves are the temples in which God dwells intimately. Bullinger makes several contributions to the theological critique of images that will be echoed and developed in the theology of John Calvin. First, Bullinger acknowledges that God did give visible signs of God’s presence to the Israelites, in the cloud and fire, and especially in the Ark of the Covenant, but that these symbols always signified that the God who was present was also an invisible, incomprehensible, and immeasurable spirit. Second, Bullinger contrasts “dead images of God” that teach falsehood through their radical unlikeness to God, with “living images of God” such as human beings, who do express likeness to God. Finally, in The Second Helvetic Confession, Bullinger turns the eyes of believers from the “dead images” made by humans to the “living images” created by God in the world around them, which do create an edifying impression on believers. John Calvin represents a very unusual position in the theological rejection of human images from the temples of God.14 On the one hand, friend and foe alike agree that he formulated one of the most effective series of arguments against the use of images in worship of any sixteenth-century theologian. On the other hand, Calvin insists, with Emser, that embodied creatures may only know the invisible God if that God becomes somewhat visible to us. In 328

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 328

12/19/2000 10:06:29 AM

Images and Iconoclasm

other words, Calvin categorically rejects what he calls the “dead images” that human beings make to represent God, in order to direct our eyes to the “living images” of God that God creates to become somewhat visible before our eyes. According to Calvin, the primary way in which the invisible God becomes visible is in the works God does in the universe. In these works, God portrays God’s powers or perfections as in a painting. These powers in turn manifest the eternal nature of God, making the works of God a “living image” of God. Since the fall of humanity into sin and death, this living image cannot rightly be beheld apart from the Word of God, which acts as spectacles to correct our vision, but once we have these spectacles, we should spend every day of our lives contemplating the beautiful image of God in the universe. However, the fall into sin prevents this image from leading us to eternal life, since Adam lost for himself and us the powers of God in the soul that would lead us to union with God. Calvin therefore directs our attention to another living image of God, that is Jesus Christ, for in the humanity of Christ God takes away all the evil we have brought on ourselves, and offers to us all of the powers that we lack that lead to eternal life. Christ manifests himself to humanity first in the symbols and sacraments of the Law of Israel, including circumcision, the Passover, sacrifices, priesthood, kingship, and so on, and then in the symbols of the Gospel, primarily baptism and the Holy Supper of the Lord. Calvin builds his case for the rejection of human images in Christian temples on the basis of the contrast he draws between this economy of divinely instituted “living images” of God with the humanly devised “dead images” present in the Roman Church. In living images, the invisible God becomes somewhat visible, while simultaneously remaining invisible. This creates a necessary field of tension that keeps the godly from confining God to the image they see before them, so that they might be led from the image that they see to the God that they cannot see. God descends to us in these living icons so that we might use them to ascend to God. Calvin locates the power that elevates us to God in the Word of God that must always be joined to the image, which is the “soul” that gives life to the image. Dead images, on the other hand, represent the human attempt to draw God down to earth and keep God there, as though God were contained in the image. As a result, dead images transform God into the image of embodied human beings, whereas the living images of God transform those beholding them into the image of the living God. Living images also have an analogical and anagogical relationship to the reality they represent. Their similarity to the reality being represented refers the mind of the viewer from the image to the reality, whereas the spiritual nature of that reality means that we must elevate our minds from the earthly and temporal to the heavenly and eternal. Dead images lack this relationship to divine reality, and so make God like the earth, and keep our minds captivated to earthly and temporal things. Finally, the living images of God offer to 329

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 329

12/19/2000 10:06:29 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

the beholder the reality being represented therein. The powers of God in the universe are being offered to those who rightly behold them, so that the powers we see with our eyes may be felt and enjoyed in our hearts. The powers of God in the flesh of Christ are being offered to us in the bread and wine which represent that flesh to us, so that we might be joined to the humanity of Christ in heaven and nourished unto eternal life. Dead images, on the other hand, can only represent an absent reality, and do not offer the reality they represent. Human beings are incapable of making symbols or images that offer the reality being represented—only God can do this. Calvin therefore wants the “dead images” forged by human ingenuity removed from the temples of God so that the godly might contemplate the living images of God set before their eyes in baptism, the Holy Supper, preaching, and other ceremonies. Calvin consistently combines his contrast of living and dead images of God with an appeal to the essential invisibility of God, making all representations of God impossible. Since God is infinite, incorporeal, invisible, and immeasurable, God is essentially incapable of being represented in any way. Since God is qualitatively distinct from anything we can see, any attempt to represent God in an image can only result in a fundamental contradiction between the image and God, which is why the prophets call images “the teachers of lies” (Hab. 2.18; Is. 40.18). Calvin contrasts the attempt to know God in visual representations with the self-revelation of God through the Word, on the basis of Moses’ statement that when God spoke on Sinai the Israelites saw no form, but only heard God’s voice (Deut. 4.15–16). The shift from image to Word becomes even more pronounced in Calvin’s life-long dispute with the saying of Gregory the Great that images are the books of the unlearned.15 Calvin counters by claiming that it is Scripture, and not images, that are the books of the unlearned, and he sought to institute the kind of pastorate that would teach the congregation to read the Scriptures for themselves, under the guidance of the preaching of their pastors. Calvin therefore envisioned the temples of God as schools, in which the pastors and congregation were both students of the Holy Spirit by their joint study of Scripture, the true book of the unlearned. The Mass was therefore replaced by the sermon in most worship services, reinforcing the turn from images we see to the Word that we hear. The appeal to the essential invisibility of God, combined with the concern to turn the temples of God into the school of Christ, introduces a serious tension into the heart of Calvin’s rejection of human images in worship, for it turns the attention of the faithful away from any consideration of images to focus on the sermons on Scripture they are to hear, supported by the texts of Scripture they are to read for themselves. However, Calvin also calls Scripture the “spectacles” that God provides for us that we may rightly behold the works of God in the universe, and Calvin also insists that the Law and the Gospel both represent Christ to us in living images that offer Christ to us. 330

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 330

12/19/2000 10:06:30 AM

Images and Iconoclasm

Hence, one could argue that the study of Scripture, and the hearing of sermons, would make possible and reinforce the contemplation of the living images of God, which lies at the heart of Calvin’s understanding of divine self-manifestation. The Council of Trent did not turn its attention to the question of images until the last session in December of 1563.16 The Council reiterated the previous conciliar decrees, especially the Second Council of Nicea, and insisted that images of Christ, Mary, and the saints be placed and retained in churches, and that honor and veneration be given them by kissing them, uncovering the head, and prostrating oneself before them, with the understanding that such veneration passes from the image to the prototype. Trent also reinforces the use of images as the books of the illiterate, to increase their love of God and imitation of the saints, with the proviso that the people be instructed that God cannot be represented in pictures. The bishops are to have ultimate jurisdiction over the placement of images in churches, to make sure that any superstition surrounding images, or any abuse of their function, might be avoided.

Bibliography Dillenberger, John. Images and Relics: Theological Perceptions and Visual Images in Sixteenth Century Europe. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999. Eire, Carlos. War against the Idols: The Reformation of Worship from Erasmus to Calvin. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986. Koerner, Joseph Lee. The Reformation of the Image. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004. Wandel, Lee Palmer. Voracious Idols and Violent Hands: Iconoclasm in Reformation Zurich, Strasbourg, and Basel. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999.

331

9780567033604_Ch18_Final_txt_print.indd 331

12/19/2000 10:06:30 AM

19

Martyrdom Haruko Nawata Ward

What is Christian martyrdom? What was its place in the various Reformation theologies? There was a “renaissance” of Christian martyrdom in the Reformation church. During the long medieval period most Europeans only occasionally witnessed martyrdom in Muslim Cordova or Coptic Cairo. Early modern Christians experienced martyrdom in two separate spheres. First, martyrdom occurred in Europe due to the conflicts among Christian groups. During the Reformation period, martyrdom became one of the defining elements of confessional identity: Lutheran, Reformed, English, Anabaptist, and Catholic. Second, Catholic orders such as the Jesuits sent missionaries to Africa, Asia, and the Americas, where numerous Christians became martyrs at the hands of the so-called “pagans.” Brad S. Gregory’s Salvation at Stake is a comprehensive work on early modern martyrdom within Christian Europe.1 This is an excellent place to begin research. Gregory uses a cross-confessional comparative method. About 5,000 people became martyrs in Europe between 1523 and 1600. These martyrs fell in roughly three defined groups: Protestants, Anabaptists, and Roman Catholics. While at the beginning of the Reformation, these groups shared many common theological resources, as the era continued, however, they each began to develop their own confessional identity in connection with its understanding of martyrdom and what might be called a martyrological theology. Gregory ultimately argues for the validity of studying martyrdom because martyrs’ influence “transcended their [limited] numbers and whose convictions were shared with their contemporaries in important respects.”2 As one begins to examine martyrdom, the conditions around the death are among the first things to be considered. There are three requirements for a death to be considered martyrdom. First, martyrs had to be executed by secular authorities. In the late Middle Ages, the modern concept of individual religious freedom was not yet established. The magistrates of the city and the sovereigns of the nations determined the religion of their citizens and subjects and punished those “heretics” who departed from the politico-religious norms. Based on Mosaic laws, Pauline letters, and Augustine, these theologians regarded heretics as soul killers, and argued that the magistrate’s execution 332

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 332

12/19/2000 10:07:35 AM

Martyrdom

was an act of charity. In the earlier phase, the magistrates used inquisition and torture to induce recantation. Public execution was meant to cause fear among the spectators and deter further spread of dangerous ideas. However, martyrdom often had exactly the opposite effect and actually encouraged more martyrdom. In the 1550s and 1560s, executions increased in frequency and size. In France and the Netherlands, civil suppressions led to wars of religion. Sometimes, not waiting the authorities’ decisions, mobs took justice in their hands as “God’s avengers.”3 The second stipulation of martyrdom was the martyr’s self-perception. Augustine’s dictum that not the punishment but the cause makes a martyr led to discussions of false and true martyrdom. The Gospels predict persecution of Christ’s followers. All Protestant, Anabaptist, and Catholic martyrs found and internalized the “symphonic variations of related passages on the theme” of suffering and martyrdom in the Bible.4 Each group found its particular reformation doctrines also in the Bible and believed that their religion was worth defending. Martyrs struggled between their convictions and fear. On the one hand they trusted in God, who they believed commanded them to bear witness to the truth faithfully even unto death. This God also promises them eternal glory in heaven. On the other hand martyrs bore a natural aversion toward pain. Martyrs exercised their faith in all trials. In following the examples of Christ, early Christian martyrs, and other more contemporary martyrs, perceived themselves as belonging to the true remnant of the true church. As their experiences were witnessed by others and recorded later, it often appears that martyrs demonstrated superhuman physical and psychological strength throughout their imprisonment, torture, and inquisition. Public execution was “the martyrs’ climactic moment,” and on this stage they performed the ultimate sign-act of faith.5 Many took advantage of the occasion to preach and exhort.6 How should we read these dramatic stories? Are the martyrdom accounts fictitious? The third important condition of martyrdom is the communal interpretation of the death or martyrology. Martyrologies provide the major source of historical knowledge not only about the martyrs but also their contexts. They reflect imaginations and worldviews of the communities of martyrs, martyrologists, and their readers. Martyrs were not isolated individuals but representative members of communities. These communities preserved the memory by storytelling and creating songs about their heroes and heroines of faith. Martyrologists gathered martyrs’ own writings and eyewitness accounts of the martyrs’ exemplary life and death. They interpreted these sources through the lens of the community’s shared beliefs. Until martyrologies were written and read, martyrs were incomplete martyrs. Martyrologies also helped establish and codify a community’s confessional identity. Thus martyrologies contain both elements of edification and propaganda. Careful 333

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 333

12/19/2000 10:07:36 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

studies of martyrologies can reveal a community’s theology. One can also compare martyrologies with other historical records left by their “enemies” in order to investigate what made a particular community so dangerous in the eyes of authorities that they had to be exterminated. In order to determine this, it is important to examine both the theological resources available to martyrologists as they wrote and the process of creating martyrologies itself.

Theological Resources Throughout the centuries, many Christians have believed that the church owed its germination to the blood of the martyrs as Tertullian remarked, “the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.”7 The word martyr (μαρτύριον) literally means “to witness.” In the early church, martyrdom conveyed layers of meanings. Christianity originated with Christ the martyr–savior. Martyrs gave testimony of their faith through the act of martyrdom. Martyrs sacrificed their lives in defense of faith against imperial tyrants. Martyrs represented the alternative community, living according to the Christian standards, which reversed the Roman social status quo. Martyrs demonstrated their virtues of fortitude, joy, defiance, and dignity heroically. In the second baptism in blood, martyred saints became immediate members of the heavenly realm and special intercessors who had direct access to Christ. Though late medieval European Christians added their understandings of martyrdom, the common foundation remained the Bible. Medieval monks preserved the classic texts, and recited the Psalms every day. Literate Christians read the vernacular translations already available. Even illiterate Christians still learned biblical stories through sermons and images in the church. Thus, the Bible was the common frame of reference for Christians as they constructed martyrologies and whether Catholic, Anabaptist, or Protestant, they all cited the Bible often including common passages such as Mt. 10.28–33, Rev. 2.10, and Jn 15.20.8 In the late Middle Ages, the notion of the imitation of Christ permeated theology, spirituality and devotional practices. Feudal Christians interpreted the Lord’s command to take up his cross to mean to follow Christ’s Passion in their “essential act of obedience.”9 Even without having the occasions to become martyrs, Christians dutifully sought various ways to imitate the Passion. Late medieval monks and friars engaged in extreme asceticism as one of the ways of imitating the Passion or the white martyrdom. In the movement called devotio moderna, the monastic pursuit of the perfect life was pushed into the world, and ordinary Christians practiced self-mortification and the virtue of patience individually and communally.10 The same mentality led to increased devotion to crucifixes, pilgrimages, feast day processions, Stations of the Cross, and many communal works of mercy for the poor.11 334

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 334

12/19/2000 10:07:36 AM

Martyrdom

A sudden painful death by plague, war, or famine was always a possibility in late medieval life. The iconographies of Totentanz (Dance of the Dead) showed Death accompanying persons from all ranks of society. A new genre of pastoral literature called ars moriendi emerged, which taught Christians how to be well-prepared for the moment of death. The Imitation of Christ, attributed to Thomas à Kempis, interprets Mt.16.24–6 in terms of ars moriendi. After examining the various situations in which one could die, the book teaches that it is more important to order one’s daily life in clear conscience than to pursue a heroic death. Ordinary life itself is the cross for Christians. Christians are to despise the gains in this transient world and hope to receive the promised glory after death. According to Gregory, late medieval Christians cultivated their virtues of patient suffering and trust in God in adverse times. Through such daily spiritual exercises and examination of conscience, devout Christians were ready to face persecution and even martyrdom. While ordinary life was enough of a cross, Christian desire for the extraordinary also coexisted. Christians longed for martyrdom “for the sake of a transcendental truth and the true love of Christ” as Christ’s bride.12 Martyrs would receive the immediate full “knowledge of truth” and “divine recognition and recompense.”13 This desire for mystical union heightened devotion to the Eucharist, in which one anticipated their final union with Christ in death. Because Christians became very serious about this mystical union, any clerical misuse of the Eucharist triggered much anxiety and discontent. While as late as the Council of Florence (1493) was still defining the sacraments, questions arose about the sacerdotal efficacy in the administration of the Eucharist. Women who were frustrated by the corrupt priesthood and were denied of any clerical offices experienced intense visions in which Christ gave the Eucharist directly to them. They developed a rich Eucharistic theology in which women became the feeding body of Christ to the poor through their mystical union with the humanity of Christ.14 Anticlericalism was also a part of the early Reform movements such as the Lollards.15 Carnivalesque techniques of inversion such as the Boy Bishop/ Abbot of Misrule in Scotland represented another expression of popular anticlericalism.16 In martyrdom an analogous Pauline vision of the equality of all believers (Ga. 3.26–8) became momentarily visible. Martyrs transcended the social and gender categories, and included “men and women, clergy and laity, young and old, the well-off, middling sorts, and the poor.”17 In fact martyrdom was the only place where nonclerical members of the church would be able to play a semiclerical role. In the medieval cult of the saints, the early church martyrs remained most revered. Martyrs were symbols of local, national, and regional hope as intercessors for their special causes. Because medieval Christians thought of human relationships in terms of a large feudal family, they imagined a similar 335

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 335

12/19/2000 10:07:36 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

heavenly family of Christ, his mother Mary, saints, and martyrs. Saints surrounded Christian life and helped solve daily problems. Christians also believed that the relics conveyed special grace from God. Protestants and Anabaptists sharply criticized this traditional veneration of the saints as idolatry and superstition. Yet they too claimed the ancient martyrs as heroic figures who embodied the faith. In sum, late medieval biblical humanism and biblicism, piety in the Imitation of Christ crucified, spirituality of devotio moderna, disciplined life in ars moriendi, heightened devotion to the Eucharist and mystical union, anticlericalism, and reverence to the early church martyr saints gave frameworks within which early modern Christians constructed their martyr theologies.

Making Martyrs, Martyr Theologies and Martyrologies Although they shared all the common resources discussed above, Protestants (Lutheran, Reformed, and English), Anabaptists (Swiss Brethren, Hutterites, and Mennonites), and Catholics (Tridentine, English, Spanish/Portuguese, French, and orders) used them in different ways and with differing emphases as they developed their own martyr theologies. Prominent Protestant martyrologists include Ludwig Rabus, Jean Crespin, Adriaan van Haemstede, and John Foxe who published during the 1550s and 1560s.18 Anabaptist martyrologies culminated in the works by Thieleman Jans van Bracht in 1685. Numerous English Catholic martyrologies were published in various languages between 1580 and 1619 while the Roman Martyrology was established in 1584. A group of “profuse memorialization by contemporaries” also appears in “pamphlets, poems, plays, woodcuts, engravings, paintings, and exhortatory treatises, in addition to the mention of martyrs and issues related to martyrdom in theological works, memoirs, correspondence, and chronicles.”19 Protestant martyrologists held a view of church history, which directly linked the Old and New Testament saints and early church martyrs with the martyrs from the fifteenth-century and sixteenth-century Reformation. In accordance to the doctrine of the salvation by grace alone, these martyrs demonstrated the “utter rejection of soteriological self-reliance,” and in martyrdom, “an absolute trust in God’s providence.”20 Based on the Augustinian view of the universal struggle between good and evil, Protestant martyrologists documented history “in which God’s providence had always guided his Church, despite Satan’s tireless efforts to destroy it” often with apocalyptic overtones.21 Protestant anti-papal polemics, which dismissed the entire history of the medieval church, would dominate until the nineteenth century. Despite intra-Protestant disagreements on the Lord’s Supper, the martyrologists agreed on the triumphant view of their martyrs. While the Protestants 336

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 336

12/19/2000 10:07:36 AM

Martyrdom

frequently borrowed their stories of martyrs from each other, Catholics never recognized Protestant martyrs. Both ignored Anabaptist martyrs. Numerous pamphlets spread the news of the first generation Protestant martyrs, most of whom were clergy. Martin Luther, a former Augustinian himself, regarded the Augustinian monks Hendrik Vos and Johann van den Esscen who were burned at the stake in Brussels in 1523, to be the first evangelical martyrs.22 Luther’s emphasis on the centrality of the Word of God in the Christian life set the direction for Lutheran martyrologies. While respecting some elements of liturgical remembrance of the saints, Luther did away with the “bogus saints and their pseudo miracles.”23 Instead, he regarded all believers to be saints in their intercessions for each other. Luther developed his notion of the Imitation of Christ in his theology of the cross, and preached the sanctity of the suffering church.24 Martyrs represented the church in their bold proclamation of the Gospel in the midst of the apocalyptic wars which the Antichrist and his devils waged. Because Germany had few local medieval saints, the transition into abolishing the cult of the saints was relatively easy.25 Also because Luther gained support among the princes, the Lutheran movement did not produce many actual martyrs. Ludwig Rabus (1524–92) is the prototypical Lutheran martyrologist.26 In his History of the Holy People of God (1552–8), he emphasized Lutheran dynamic proclamation of the Word and recorded lengthy confessions of faith. He included Luther and Argula von Grumbach among his confessors, but also borrowed Matthew Zell and Anne Askew from the Reformed sources. Matthias Flacius Illyricus (1520–75) was blatantly polemical. He stated that the post-Hildebrandine church was heretical, and equated it with the age of the Antichrist in Rev. 20.1–8 in his Catalogue of Witnesses to the Truth, who have cried out against the Pope before our Time (1556).27 Reformed communities grew in small pockets in France, Switzerland, Germany, the Netherlands, and Central Europe in the mid-sixteenth century. As minorities, they met more vigorous suppression than did Lutherans. This second generation of Protestant martyrs included more laypersons. The massive Reformed martyrologies developed between 1552 and 1559. John Calvin and Pierre Viret articulated the “non-negotiable harder edged” Reformed antiNicodemism. They referred to such scripture as Lk. 9.26, and preached that Christ demands his followers to bear uncompromising public witness to the Reformed faith against idolatry, but failure to do so would result in condemnation. Martyrdom offered the absolute test of fidelity to God. Perseverance in persecution might signify election to eternal life although one should not speculate on God’s decision. There are three representative Reformed martyrologists, whose works became influential in forming Reformed confessional identity. Jean Crespin (1520–72), a French refugee, published his Recveil de plvsievrs personnes qui ont 337

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 337

12/19/2000 10:07:36 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

constamment enduré la mort pour le Nom de Seigneur Iesus Christ . . . in Geneva in 1554. In this and subsequent editions, which bore many different titles, Crespin clearly presented his Calvinist anti-Nicodemism. He exclusively chose Calvinist martyrs and cited their confessions. After his death, Simon Goulart expanded Crespin’s martyrology. Crespin-Goulart History of Martyrs, reprinted regularly until 1619, was immensely popular among the French Huguenots under persecution by the Catholic monarchy. Individuals owned a copy along with the Bible, the Psalter, and Calvin’s Institutes, and their assemblies read the stories of martyrs aloud. After 1562, Huguenots were combatants in the series of civil wars. Later editions included pamphlets, letters, and records of the victims of the 1545 massacre of the Provençal Waldensians and St Bartholomew’s Day Massacre (1572). By the time of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes (1685), Daniel DesMarest produced an abridged version of Crespin-Goulart, which contained only French martyrs. The Flemish-Dutch Calvinist communities produced the second major Reformed martyrologist, Adriaan Corneliszoon van Haemstede (1520–62). His History and Deaths of the Devout Martyrs (1559) was published in Emden. Van Haemstede included other Protestant martyrs, but not confessors. He also included his contemporary martyrs from Flanders and Antwerp. His tolerance of adult baptism led to his dismissal from the pastorate in Antwerp and eventual excommunication from Reformed Church. Five subsequent editions were published without Van Haemstede’s name. The National Reformed Protestant Synod of Dordrecht in 1578 appointed Johann Cubus to make additions to Van Haemstede’s work. These official Dutch books of martyrs assured Calvinist orthodoxy in its anti-Nicodemism and apocalypticism, and purged them of any Anabaptist suspicions. The Dutch Calvinists viewed Spanish Catholicism as foreign oppression. They were also living side by side with the Anabaptists, who celebrated their martyrs even more overtly. The term Anabaptist is applied to the various reform groups which shared the common doctrine of believer’s baptism despite their differences on other issues. Pushing the Reformation doctrine of sola scriptura further, the Anabaptists argued that there is no scriptural basis for infant baptism. The church had ruled rebaptism as heresy deserving execution since the Justinian code of 529, and many early modern magistrates reaffirmed this notion.28 To become Anabaptist and receive believer’s baptism meant a potential death sentence. Another unique mark of the Anabaptists was in the way in which they differentiated the church from the state. Anabaptists refused to serve in civic offices, swear allegiance to the state, and fight in the military. Their radical separatism was taken as civil disobedience. The third mark of mainstream Anabaptism was nonresistant pacifism. Such early leaders as Conrad Grebel, Balthasar Hubmaier, Hans Hut, and Michael Sattler encouraged their followers that suffering and dying for their faith was the inevitable outcome of their 338

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 338

12/19/2000 10:07:37 AM

Martyrdom

baptism and discipleship. Anabaptist communities often suffered severe persecution from all sides of the sixteenth-century confessional divide. Between 1527 and 1530, 488 Anabaptists were known to be executed in Switzerland, south and central Germany, Austria, Bohemia, and Moravia, representing about 10 percent of all heresy/treason executions over the entirety of sixteenth and seventeenth-century Europe.29 In the mid-sixteenth century, Menno Simons and Dirk Philips wrote anti-Nicodemist works. Central to the Anabaptist martyrologies are their hymns and songs.30 The writers interwove numerous anonymous pamphlets, prison letters, testaments of martyrs and scriptural citations into these songs. Printed songbooks often identified the scriptural references in the margins. The songs represent the community’s theological understanding of God, Christ, the Holy Spirit, salvation, the apocalyptic battle between the darkness and the light, Baptism, Communion, community, and the joy of martyrdom. These songs were essential pedagogical and apologetic tools.31 The communal singing functioned as catechism. Refugees committed them to their memory. Martyrs sang at trials and executions, witnessing to the truth and making converts from the audience. The Anabaptist song tradition continues to nurture their historical and ideological identity as the true martyr church. The first Dutch Anabaptist compendia The Sacrifice unto the Lord (1562–3) by Jan Hendricks van Schoonrewoerd was published anonymously in Emden. The first part contains prose martyr stories and the second, songs. Of the 150 plus martyrs discussed, all except Jesus, Saint Stephen (from Acts), and the sixteenth-century Anabaptist Michael Sattler (who was Swiss) were from the Low Countries. Ten more editions followed until 1599, some reflecting the schism between the milder Flemish form of Anabaptism and the stricter Frisian over shunning.32 Executions of Anabaptists in the Low Countries ended by 1597, and by then, many had fled as far as Russia and eventually to the Americas. As the Mennonites increasingly gained economic prosperity, their martyrologists reminded them of the dangers of materialism. Hans de Reis and others published History of Martyrs in 1615 and Martyrs’ Mirror in 1631–2 with an expanded scope of the history of the true church. Thieleman Jans van Bracht completed Mennonite martyrology in his massive Bloody Theatre (1660) and Martyrs’ Mirror (1685). The latter included pre-Reformation era martyrs in addition to the 803 early modern martyrs, all who died rejecting infant baptism. In addition to the Protestant and Anabaptist martyrs, the Low Countries also had Catholic martyrs.33 In 1572 William of Orange regained the territories in the Netherlands and beginning in 1581 Calvinist Holland issued antiCatholic legislation on marriage, worship, the sacraments, education, and public rights. About 130 priests were executed without trials between 1567 and 1591.34 The Gorcum martyrs, the 19 monks massacred and dismembered by Calvinist Sea Beggars in 1585, were beatified in 1675. 339

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 339

12/19/2000 10:07:37 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Reformation in the British Isles had a unique situation. From the onset, the governance question posed great problems in England. Under Henry VIII, the Church of England became the national church. Henry’s adoption of Protestantism, in order to divorce Katherine of Aragon to marry Ann Boleyn, was more motivated by convenience than religion. His Act of Supremacy (1535) claimed the English crown, ordained by God and sanctioned in the Bible, to possess superior authority to the priestly office. Religious dissent equaled treason to the crown. When Mary Tudor reversed the national religion to Roman Catholicism, about 300 Protestants were executed and about 800 went into exile in the continent.35 Under Elizabeth I, Protestants began assessing their experiences of the Marian persecution. Upholding the crown’s rights, the martyrologists were ambivalent about considering all the dissenters as martyrs.36 The third representative Reformed martyrologist was John Foxe (1516–87). Upon his return to London from the Marian exile in 1559, he wrote a history of the English church and its persecution from a Reformed perspective. During his lifetime and after his death, at least nine editions of his Acts and Monuments were published bearing various titles.37 Foxe used his humanist training to carefully examine his sources including prison letters and church records. He was very nationalistic in his selection of martyrs, prominently featuring John Wycliffe. He used the common anti-papal polemics, emphasized the extreme heroism of Protestant martyrs without any cases of apostasy, and presented the idealistic picture of a unified Protestant community.38 In 1571, the Anglican synod lead by Archbishop Matthew Parker sanctioned Acts and Monuments as the official martyr book, and directed the churches to purchase a copy along with the Bible. Abridged affordable versions also appeared and fueled popular anti-Roman sentiment. The aborted Gunpowder Plot (1605) affirmed Protestant triumphalism that Protestant England was God’s elect nation. Ironically under James I, the Separatists found their causes in Acts and Monuments to dissent from the Established church. English Catholics, too, maintained the mixture of religion and patriotism. The first Henrician martyrs, Thomas More, John Fisher, and London Carthusians, were executed for refusing to sign the Act of Supremacy of 1535. Between 1537 and 1544, about 40 English Catholics, including Margaret Pole, were executed. Such writers as Johannes Cochlaeus, Reginald Pole (Margaret Pole’s second son and an exile cardinal), Maurice Chauncy, Nicholas Harpsfield, and Thomas Stapleton, slowly made connections between the biblical and early-church martyrs with these new martyrs. Like the early-church martyrs, the Apostle Thomas and St Catherine of Alexandria, the Henrician martyrs upheld fidelity to God over loyalty to the Nero-like tyrants. They stood in the tradition of medieval English martyrs Saint Alban and Saint Thomas Becket, who died in defense of the Catholic faith against secular authority. 340

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 340

12/19/2000 10:07:37 AM

Martyrdom

Gregory noted that by the 1570s English “Catholic leaders came to believe that God had renewed persecution of his church in Europe so that new martyrs might help beat back the worst spread of heresy since antiquity.”39 Pope Pius V’s excommunication of Queen Elizabeth in 1569, Catholic uprisings in Durham and Yorkshire, the Jesuit mission led by Robert Parsons and Edmund Campion beginning in 1580, and Catholic Reform on the continent heightened the alert of the Protestant government. Between 1581 and 1585, the Parliament issued a series of treason laws against Catholic priests and their lay hosts. In Elizabethan and Jacobean persecutions, English Catholic martyrologists gained solid ground. The Jesuit English Seminary at Douai-Rheims in France (founded by William Allen in 1568) and English College in Rome (founded by Gregory XIII in 1576 and entrusted to the Jesuits) trained and sent missionaries back to England. The Jesuits formed their martyr theology from the New Testament, the Imitation of Christ, stories of the saints, and Loyola’s Spiritual Exercises, and promoted the cult of the martyrs through numerous publications and school dramas. According to R. Po-Chia Hsia, English Catholics belonged mostly to the small numbers of landowning families.40 Their kinship network and leadership, including some prominent women such as Dorothy Lawson (1580–1632), sustained the underground church by providing safe harbor for the returning Jesuits. In 1603 there were about 30,000 Catholics among the total population of 2.5 million. Between 1577 and 1603, 123 priests were executed and 60 lay recusants died as martyrs. Out of 440 exiled Jesuits at English College in Douai who went back to England as missionaries between 1574 and 1603, 98 were executed. In addition, there were some Benedictine and secular clergy martyrs. Overall, Catholic martyrs counted only several hundred in the limited areas of Europe while Portugal, Spain, and Italy remained solidly Catholic.41 These new martyrs bore important symbols. Catholic reexamination of the cult of the saints was only partially motivated by Protestant challenges.42 The last session of the Council of Trent redefined the role of the saints in the new era. Numerous local saints, who attracted much popular devotion in the late medieval period, met humanist scrutiny for their historical authenticity. Roman Missal (1570) and Roman Martyrology (1584), published under Pope Gregory XIII, contained only the smaller pool of the early church saints. This Roman Martyrology with the subsequent critical notes would become the standard martyrology of the post-Tridentine church. One the other hand, the local desires to own their saints continued. The antiquarian interests in Rome led to excavations of the catacombs and rediscoveries of many ancient artifacts and relics in 1578.43 Some bishops competed for translation of the newly discovered relics to their parishes. Others practiced creative readings of the inscriptions to claim their authentic ties to the distant past. 341

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 341

12/19/2000 10:07:37 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

The papal Office of the Sacred Congregation of Rites and Ceremonies, established in 1588, placed stricter standards on the canonization. As a result, very few early-modern martyrs became canonized between 1588 and 1767.44 While the official examination, beatification, and canonization of the recent martyrs took a slow pace, popular devotion to the martyrs, including the most recent ones as unofficial saints, increased. Hagiography such as the Golden Legends and the new Bollandist stories of saints, along with the current eyewitness accounts of the new martyrs, enjoyed wide readership.45 In contrast to the iconoclastic Protestants and Anabaptists, Catholic martyrologies celebrated visual representations of their martyrs in a variety of mediums, including images, liturgical calendar, and theater.46 Devotion to the relics of the recent martyrs reinforced the interpretation of Rev. 6.9 that the remains of the slaughtered for the Word of God were laid at the altar of Christ.47 This martyr theology was the amplification of the traditional notion that martyrs were “extraordinary intercessors” and “paradigms of virtue” for the living.48 Another distinctly Catholic martyr theology was rooted in the traditional doctrine of mystical union between Christ and his bride, the church.49 Gregory notes that while the Catholics cited biblical passages common to other confessions, only they gave Col. 1.24 a prominent place. Martyrs’ sufferings completed the passion of Christ. The blood of the martyrs was also the Eucharistic sacrifice of the body of Christ on earth. Works by Luis de Granada, Ignatius of Loyola, Theresa of Avila, and François de Sales developed their mystical theology of martyrdom, while pictures depicted the dramatic sufferings of martyrs. English martyrs and martyrologies between 1580 and 1603 provided the most intense martyr theology. Margaret Clitherow literarily imitated Christ and early martyrs by choosing the cruciform death. Such writings as Robert Southwell’s Epistle of Comfort (1587) and William Allen’s Apology of the English Colleges (1581) promoted passionate anti-Nicodemite witness in solidarity with the sufferings of Christ, martyrs, and the Church. On the other hand the Jesuit casuistry (cases of conscience) did not promote a hasty rush for martyrdom. Catholics affirmed that martyrdom was an extraordinary gift of grace, bestowed only by God to the specially chosen, and no human efforts could gain it unless God granted it. Still everyone was to imitate martyrs’ extraordinary virtues of patience and self-denial. Protestants accused Catholics of the priestly usurpation of Christ’s office in the doctrine of transubstantiation.50 The post-Tridentine Reformed Catholicism reaffirmed the honorable office of the priests. For the early modern Catholic martyrs, their refusal to deny priestly authority was not a simple expression of their allegiance to the pope. The pope was the symbol of the comprehensive whole of Christian life. To deny the pope was to deny the deep meaning of Catholic liturgy, the sacraments, doctrines, and the hagiographic tradition including the multilayered understanding of martyr theology. 342

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 342

12/19/2000 10:07:37 AM

Martyrdom

New Interests in Martyr Experiences: Gender Studies and World Christianity One of the newer fields of historical research into martyrdom is the examination of women martyrs. What made experiences of women martyrs distinctive from male martyrs? In the introduction to Elizabeth’s Manly Courage the editors note that a high percentage of Anabaptist martyrs in the Low Countries were women.51 Uneducated women claimed their voice by studying the scripture. Such lay learning and leadership incited authorities’ anger. Because “women were in principle excluded from the church and state hierarchy which was persecuting them,” women individually had to face the “weight of sanctioned authority and theological learning to which she, by virtue of being a woman, was allowed no access.”52 Women’s bodies added another dimension to their suffering. Torturers shamed women by exposing their bodies to public gaze. Women also had to deal with the burden of pregnancy which prevented the authorities from carrying out immediate execution. Because women were so much a part of the new communities, isolation from their network increased women’s pain. Martyrdom was the last venue within the very “narrow range of action open to women” to assert their religious leadership.53 When women’s courage and strength surpassed men’s, and they demonstrated “independence of thought, action, bravery, and leadership,” the society only knew to describe them as “manly” as in the case of Elisabeth van Leeuwarden. Similar experiences were also found in the Reformed communities. Twenty percent of the Marian martyrs were women from artisan and agricultural laborer classes.54 Fredrica Harris Thompsett underscores the lived theology of these 55 English Reformed women in Foxe’s martyrology.55 By demonstrating their superior biblical knowledge and by refusing to attend Mass, women articulated their theology of the Word and Eucharist. Women engaged in the ministries of friendship, visitation, and letter writing. Martyrdom was the culmination of their theology and ministry. These women crossed the “boundaries that prohibited women’s public speaking in church and the public exercise of religious leadership” despite the efforts of Foxe to contain their stories within the Tudor Protestant domestic ideology.56 Foxe criticized the papists’ brutality against women and their families. Ellen Macek’s study on Foxe’s martyrology emphasizes these same women’s quest for autonomy and self-actualization.57 With the new knowledge gained by studying the Bible, and the encouragement gained in their secret conventicles, women became more assertive in expressing their faith in action. As they matured in spirituality, women regarded their service to God more important than that to their family. Macek makes an important point that women identified themselves as “Christs.” This acknowledgment of the divine in self assured these women of the final self-transcendence through martyrdom.

343

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 343

12/19/2000 10:07:37 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Catholic Recusant women martyrs in Elizabethan England pursued the notion of mystical union with Christ to the cosmic level. The martyrologists of Margaret Clitherow not only depicted her as the exemplar of the post-Tridentine spirituality, but also a compound symbol of the church.58 Anne Dillon analyzes the layered symbols of the popular medieval English Saint Margaret of Antioch as mother to the family and community, dragon slayer, woman clothed in the Sun in Revelations 12.2, Mary the Mother of God, and the universal church. The martyrologists imposed these images of St Margaret upon Margaret Clitherow. Margaret catechized and led the Recusant community, and harbored the Jesuit priests. For Margaret, the authority of the priest came directly from God for the sole purpose of providing Eucharist to the faithful. The martyrologists interpreted that the Antichrist, the Protestant authorities, assailed Margaret, the universal church. They also overlayed the images of Jesus in Gethsemane and crucifixion with Margaret’s suffering and execution. When she puts on a habit-like alb before her execution, “Margaret becomes both priest and victim, like Christ at the Crucifixion.”59 In the bloody martyrdom, Margaret is depicted as becoming Christ himself, and thus becoming Eucharistic and redemptive sacrifice for the universal church.60 Nikki Shepardson studies the discrepancies between the actual women martyrs and martyrological representations in Crespin’s writings. She notes how Crespin constructed women martyrs to promote Calvin’s gender ideology especially for the female readers. Calvin affirmed the subordination of women according to the traditional interpretation of Eve as the weaker sex. The majority of the female Huguenot martyrs belonged to the nonaristocratic classes. These ordinary women became “visible educators and religious agitators,”61 engaged in the “physical act of social disobedience and subversion”62 and thus challenged the existing order. Crespin employed the “gendered rhetoric of martyrdom through language, image and shifts in emphasis”63 to conceal these women’s activism. In order to encourage women to support the Reformed movement, but to discourage them from overtly public insubordination, Crespin highlighted Calvin’s doctrine of special election. He portrayed women martyrs as naturally modest, maternal, wifely, and obedient to the patriarchal structure of the family and society. Yet God sometimes chooses even women, the weakest of the weak, for martyrdom through which God manifests God’s own extraordinary power. In contrast, Crespin encouraged men to leave their family for martyrdom as sign of their natural constancy.

Martyrs in the Non-European Missions Ignatius of Loyola founded the Society of Jesus in 1540 with a clear missionary intent, and the Jesuits played a significant role in the Christianization of the newly “discovered” lands until its papal suppression in 1773. Their numerous 344

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 344

12/19/2000 10:07:37 AM

Martyrdom

clerical and lay martyrs “were playing their part in the globalization of the universal church.”64 By the Treaty of Tordesillas, the missionaries worked under the royal patronages of either Portugal in the East (from Africa to East Asia, and Brazil), or Spain in the West (the Americas, and the Philippines). The number of Jesuit missionaries, their martyrs, and textual production far exceeded those in other orders such as Franciscans, Dominicans, and Augustinians, and the papal office of the Propaganda Fide founded in 1622. There are two groups of Jesuit martryrological literature: letters and mission literature. First, the Jesuit Constitutions required the missions to send regular reports to their Superior General in Rome. Many of these Jesuit letters were edited, translated, and published to edify Catholics in Europe. Second, Jesuit missions also engaged in literature evangelization and established their own presses. Both European and native Jesuits and lay women and men catechists produced mission publications. These contained Christ’s passion narrative, stories of the saints, the Imitation of Christ, the Spiritual Exercises, as well as literature unique to each mission. These martyrologies need careful examination in specific cultural, political, and religious contexts. In the chapter entitled “The Catholic Missions in Asia,” Hsia returns to the motif of martyrdom in Japan. The Japanese case presents a good comparison to contemporary European martyrdom. Beginning in 1549 the mission grew steadily despite constant persecution.65 However by 1650, the government successfully suppressed Christianity, and closed the nation to all foreign contacts. The estimated number of martyrs during the Christian Century (1549–1650) is 40,000, excluding numerous confessors and exiles.66 Hsia relies on three groups of studies on Japanese martyrdom. First is literature, such as Elison’s Deus Destroyed and Endo’s novel The Silence, which introduced apostate Jesuits Christovão Ferreira and Fabian Fucan and their anti-Christian propaganda literature.67 However, Hsia was not aware of any serious study on the experiences of actual martyrs, which far outnumbered these famous apostates. The second is the underground Christian communities which survived without clerical supervision until their resurfacing in 1865. Again although it is a fascinating phenomenon, only limited sources such as the Christian calendar, stories of saints, and prayers survived. The third aspect is the 26 Nagasaki martyrs (1597), who were beatified by Pope Urban VIII in 1627 and canonized by Pope Pius IX in 1862. It should be also noted that Roman recognition of the Japanese and Korean martyrs in the Christian Century has continued. In 1867 Pius IX beatified another 205 priests and Christian women and men martyrs. In 1987 John Paul II canonized two women martyrs and 14 male martyrs as saints. In 2008, Benedict XVI beatified 188 martyrs. Juan G. Ruiz de Medina’s detailed catalogue of over 2,000 martyrs and their martyrological sources in El Martirologio del Japón, published in 2000, provides a good resource for further study. 345

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 345

12/19/2000 10:07:38 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Although Hsia did not elaborate on the martyrs in other Catholic missions in Asia, certainly there were martyrs in Catholic missions in India, China, Philippines, Vietnam, East Timor, Indonesia, and Formosa (Taiwan). These stories of martyrs and martyrologies also need a comparative study with those in Ethiopia, Mexico and Central America, Canada and North America, and Brazil and South America to supplement our understanding of martyrdom in the early modern world.68

Conclusion The early modern period was an extremely violent age. Martyrdom in relation to this general culture of violence needs to be explored further. This period was also an age of global media networking. For example, through the extensive exchange of letters between England and the Continent, as well as between Rome, Goa, and Bahia, European Christians became acquainted with the news of martyrdoms.69 Both English Protestants and Catholics utilized continental presses to circulate their views, and the Jesuit presses in Nagasaki and Mexico published new martyrologies. Catholic martyrological literature built a sense of solidarity between European Christians and non-European Christian communities in the worldwide communion. Yet the Christian missionary movements in many parts of the early modern world meant colonization and forced Christianization without religious tolerance and with European racial supremacy. In addition to the converted native Christians who became martyrs in the non-European missions, one needs to be aware of the victims of violence which the early modern church imposed upon non-Christians. Early modern European Church and state did not differentiate their own Christian heretics from other infidels. These include the Jews, “Turks,” and the “witches,” who were frequent targets of inquisitions, expulsion, and execution. There were also the decimated native peoples in the conquests of the Americas, and the massive numbers of Africans and Asians taken as slaves. Whether we consider these persons as martyrs is a point of contention.

Selected Bibliography For archival sources, see bibliographies in the following materials. Introduction Gregory, Brad S. Salvation at Stake: Christian Martyrdom in Early Modern Europe. Cambridge, MA and London, UK: Harvard University Press, 1999. —. “Martyrs and Saints.” In R. Po-chia Hsia (ed.), A Companion to the Reformation World, 455–70 [Indicated as M&S]. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2006. Hsia, R. Po-chia. The World of Catholic Renewal, 1540–1770. New Approaches to European History. Cambridge, UK and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1998. 346

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 346

12/19/2000 10:07:38 AM

Martyrdom Wood, Diana (ed.). Martyrs and Martyrologies: Papers Read at the 1992 Summer Meeting and the 1993 Winter Meeting of the Ecclesiastical History Society. Oxford, UK and Cambridge, MA: Blackwell Publishers, 1993. [M&M in the following] See also entries, Gilmont, Jean-François. “Books of Martyrs”; and Hillerbrand, Hans J. “Persecution” in The Oxford Encyclopedia of the Reformation, ed. Hans J. Hillerbrand. New York: Oxford University Press, 1996.

Late Medieval Period Primary Sources Kempis, Thomas à. The Imitation of Christ, revised, trans. and ed. Hal M. Helms and Robert J. Edmonson; foreword by Benet Tvedten. Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2008. Voragine, Jacobus de. The Golden Legend: Readings on the Saints, trans. William Granger Ryan. 2 vols. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993.

Secondary Sources Cameron, Euan. “Medieval Heretics as Protestant Martyrs,” M&M, pp. 185–207. Lambert, Malcolm. Medieval Heresy: Popular Movements from the Gregorian Reform to the Reformation, 3rd edn. Oxford, UK and Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2002. Rubin, Miri. “Choosing Death? Experiences of Martyrdom in Late Medieval Europe,” M&M, 153–83.

Lutheran Primary Sources Luther, Martin. The Burning of Brother Henry (1525). LW 32: 261–83. Rabus, Ludwig. Historien der Heyligen Außerwörten Gottes Zeügen, Bekennern vnd Martyrern . . . Pts. 1–8. Strasbourg: Samuel Emmel, 1552–8.

Secondary Sources Bagchi, David. “Luther and the Problem of Martyrdom,” M&M, pp. 209–19. Kolb, Robert. For All the Saints: Changing Perceptions of Martyrdom and Sainthood in the Lutheran Reformation. Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1987.

Anabaptists Primary Sources Braght, Tieleman Jans van. Het Bloedig Tooneel, of Martelaers Spiegel der Doopsgesinde of Weereloose Christenen [Amsterdam, 1685]. Repr. Dieren: De Bataafshche Leeuw, 1984. —. The Bloody Theater or Martyrs Mirror of the Defenseless Christians . . . ., trans. Joseph F. Sohn [1660]. Reprint edition. Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1990. —. The Bloody Theater @ www.homecomers.org/mirror/head.htm (accessed September 19, 2011). Cramer, Samuel. Een Lietboecxken, tracterende van den Offer des Heeren, naar de uitgaaf van 1570. S. Cramer and F. Pijper, Bibliotheca Reformatoria Neerlandica. Geschriften wit den tijd der Hervorming in de Nederlanden, vol. 2. ‘s-Gravenhage: Nijhoff, 1904. 347

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 347

12/19/2000 10:07:38 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology Joldersma, Hermina and Jouis Grijp (eds and trans). “Elisabeth’s Manly Courage”: Testimonials and Songs of Martyred Anabaptist Women in the Low Countries. Reformation Texts with Translation: Women of the Reformation series, 3. Milwaukee, WI: Marquette University Press, 2001.

Secondary Sources Gregory, Brad. “Prescribing and Describing Martyrdom: Menno’s Troestelijke vermaninge and Het Offer des Heren.” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 71 (1997): 603–13. Liesebert, U. “The Martyr Songs of the Hutterite Brethren.” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 67 (1993): 323–36. Snyder, Arnold C. and Linda A. Huebert Hecht. Profiles of Anabaptist Women. Sixteenth-Century Reforming Pioneers. Studies in Women and Religion 3. Waterloo, ON: Wilfred Laurier University Press, 1996.

French Reformed Primary Sources Beza, Theodore. Histoire ecclésiastique des églises réformées au royaune de France [1580]. Rep. 3 vols. Nieuwkoop: B. de Graaf, 1974. Crespin, Jean. The estate of the church, with the discourse of the times, from the Apostles vntill this present: also the liues of all the emperours, popes of Rome, and Turkes: as also the kings of Fraunce, England, Scotland, Spaine, Portugall, Denmarke, &c. With all the memorable accidents of their times, trans. Simon Patrick. London: Thomas Creede, 1602. —. Histoire des martyrs persecutez et mis à mort pour la verité de l”évangile, depuis le temps des apostres jusques à present [1619]. New edn 3 vols. Toulouse: Sociéte des Livres Religieux, 1885–9.

Secondary Sources Diefendorf, Barbara. Beneath the Cross: Catholics and Huguenots in Sixteenth-Century Paris. New York: Oxford University Press, 1991. Parker, Charles H. “French Calvinists as the Children of Israel: An Old Testament Self-Consciousness in Jean Crespin’s Histoire des Martyrs before the Wars of Religion,” Sixteenth Century Journal, 24 (1993): 227–47. Randall, Catharine Coats. (Em)bodying the Word: Textual Resurrections in the Martyrological Narratives of Foxe, Crespin, de Bèze and d’Aubigné. New York: Peter Lang, 1992. Roberts, Penny. “Martyrologies and Martyrs in the French Reformation: Heretics to Subversives in Troyes,” M&M, 221–9. Shepardson, Nikki. “Gender and the Rhetoric of Martyrdom in Jean Crespin’s Histoire de vrays tesmoins.” Sixteenth Century Journal, 35–1 (2004): 155–77. Watson, David. “Jean Crespin and the Writing of History in the French Reformation.” In Bruce Gordon (ed.), Protestant History and Identity in SixteenthCentury Europe, 2:39–58. Aldershot: Scholar Press, 1996.

Dutch Reformed Primary Source Van Haemstede, Adriaan. Gheschiedenisse ende den doodt der vromer martelaren. . . . Antwerp, 1559.

348

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 348

12/19/2000 10:07:38 AM

Martyrdom

Secondary Source Pettegree, Andrew. “Adriaan van Haemstede: The Heretic as Historian.” In Bruce Gordon (ed.), Protestant History and Identity, 2: 59–76. Aldershot: Scholar Press, 1996.

Catholic Netherlands Secondary Source Tracy, James. D. “With or Without the Counter-Reformation: The Catholic Church in the Spanish Netherlands and the Dutch Republic, 1580–1650. A Review of the Literature Since 1945.” Catholic Historical Review, 71 (1985): 547–75.

English, Scottish Protestants Primary Sources Bayle, John. Selected Works: Containing the Examinations of Lord Cobham, William Thorpe, and Anne Askewe and the Image of Both Churches, ed. Henry Christmas. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1849. New York, Johnson Reprint Corp, 1968. Foxe, John. The Acts and Monuments of John Foxe with a Life of the Martyrologist and a Vindication of the Work. 8 vols. Ed. Stephen Reed Cattley. London, 1837–47. —. The Acts and Monuments@ www.hrionline.ac.uk/johnfoxe/index.html Knox, John. John Knox’s History of the Reformation in Scotland, ed. William Croft Dickinson, 2 vols. New York: Philosophical library, 1950.

Secondary Sources Dawson, Jane E. A. “The Scottish Reformation and the Theatre of Martyrdom,” M&M, 261–7. Freeman, Thomas. “‘The good ministrye of godlye and vertuouse women’: The Elizabethan Martyrologists and the Female Supporters of the Marian Martyrs.” Journal of British Studies, 39 (2000): 8–33. Knott, John. Discourses of Martyrdom in English Literature: 1563–1694. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1993. Loades, David. The Oxford Martyrs. 2nd edn. Bangor, Gwynedd: Headstart History, 1992. —. “John Foxe and the Traitors: the Politics of the Marian Persecution (Presidential Address),” M&M, 231–44. Loades, David, ed. John Foxe Home and Abroad. Aldershot, UK and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2004. Macek, Ellen. “The Emergence of a Feminine Spirituality in The Book of Martyrs,” Sixteenth-Century Journal, 19 (1988): 63–80. Thompsett, Fredrica Harris. “Protestant women as Victims and Subjects: Reformation Legacies from John Foxe’s Book of Martyrs.” In Donald S. Armentrout (ed.), This Sacred History: Anglican Reflections for John Booty, 182–98. Cambridge, MA: Cowley Publications, 1990. Wabuda, Susan. “Henry Bull, Miles Coverdale, and the Making of Foxe’s Book of Martyrs.” M&M, 245–58.

349

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 349

12/19/2000 10:07:38 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

English Catholic Primary Sources Campion, Edmund. A Jesuit Challenge: Edmund Campion’s Debates at the Tower of London in 1581. New York: Fordham University Press, 1999. Mush, John. “A True Report of the Life and Martyrdom of Mrs. Margaret Clitherow.” In John Morris (ed.), The Troubles of Our Catholic Forefathers Related by Themselves. Ser. 3. reprint, vol. 3. Farnborough: Gregg International Publishers, 1970. Persons, Robert. A brief discours containing certayne reasons why Catholiques refuse to goe to church. Douai, 1580. English Recusant Literature 1558–1640, 84. Menston: Scolar Press, 1972.

Secondary Sources Allison, A. F. and Rogers, D. M. (eds), The Contemporary Printed Literature of the English Counter-Reformation between 1558 and 1640. 2 vols. Aldershot: Scholar Press, 1989–1994. Cross, Claire. “The Elizabethan Martyrologist and his Martyr: John Mush and Margaret Clitherow,” M&M, 271–81. Dillon, Anne. The Construction of Martyrdom in the English Catholic Community, 1535–1603. Aldershot, UK and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2002. Houliston, Victor. Catholic Resistance in Elizabethan England: Robert Persons’s Jesuit Polemic. Catholic Christendom 1300–1700; Bibliotheca Instituti Historici Societatis Iesu, 63. Aldershot, UK and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2007. McCoog, Thomas M. (ed.). English and Welsh Jesuits 1555–1650. Records Series 74. Southampton: Catholic Record Society Publications, 1994.

Tridentine Catholicism Primary Sources The Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, trans. and ed. H.J. Schroeder. Rockford, IL: Tan Books, 1978.

Secondary Sources Burke, Peter. “How To Be a Counter-Reformation Saint.” In Peter Burke (ed.), The Historical Anthropology of Early Modern Italy. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1987. Ditchfield, Simon. “Martyrs on the Move: Relics as Vindicators of Local Diversity in the Tridentine Church,” M&M, 283–94. Tylenda, Joseph N. Jesuit Saints and Martyrs: Short Biographies of the Saints, Blessed, Venerables, and Servants of God of the Society of Jesus, 2nd edn. Chicago: Jesuit Way, 1998.

North America Primary Source Thwaites, Reuben Gold. The Jesuit relations and allied documents travels and explorations of the Jesuit missionaries in New France, 1610–1791: the original French, Latin, and Italian texts, with English translations and notes. Cleveland: Burrows, 1898.

350

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 350

12/19/2000 10:07:39 AM

Martyrdom

Secondary Source O’Brien, John A. The First Martyrs of North America: The Story of the Eight Jesuit Martyrs. Indiana, IN: Notre Dame University Press, 1960.

Japan Primary Sources García, Delgado José and Manuel González Pola (ed.). Beato Jacinto Orfanell, O. P. Mártir del Japón. Cartas y Relaciones, 2nd edn. Madrid: Institutos de Filosofía y Teología Santo Tomas, 1989. Morejón, Pedro. A Brief Relation of the Persecution Lately Made Against the Catholike Christians, in the Kingdome of Iaponia, 1619, trans. W. W. Gent. St. Omer, 1619. English Recusant Literature 1558–1640, 213. Ilkley: Scolar Press, 1974. Rodrigues Girão, João. The Palme of Christian Fortitude or the Glorious Combats of Christians in Iaponia, trans. and ed. Edmund Neville. St. Omer, 1630. English Recusant Literature 1558–1640, 21. Menston: Scolar Press, 1970. Whelan, Christal. Otaiya: Christmas Eve. Watertown, MA: Documentary Educational Resources, 1997.

Secondary Sources Boxer, C. R. The Christian Century in Japan, 1549–1650. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1951. Cieslik, Hubert. “The Great Martyrdom in Edo, 1623: Its Causes, Course, Consequences.” Monumenta Nipponica, 10 (1954): 1–44. Elison, George. Deus Destroyed: the Image of Christianity in Early Modern Japan. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973. Harrington, Ann M. Japan’s Hidden Christians. Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1993. Ruiz de Medina, Juan G. El Martirologio del Japón (1558–1873). Rome: Institutum Historicum Societatis Iesu, 2000. Turbull, Stephen. “The Veneration of the Martyrs of Ikitsuki (1609–45) by the Japanese ‘Hidden Christians.’” M&M, 295–310. Twenty-Six Martyrs Museum. www.26martyrs.com/ Ward, Haruko Nawata. Women Religious Leaders in Japan’s Christian Century, 1549–1650. Women and Gender in Early Modern World. Aldershot, UK and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2009.

351

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 351

12/19/2000 10:07:39 AM

9780567033604_Ch19_Final_txt_print.indd 352

12/19/2000 10:07:39 AM

Part II A Reformation ABC

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 353

12/19/2000 10:09:01 AM

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 354

12/19/2000 10:09:02 AM

Definitions Act of Supremacy (1534) Act passed by the English Parliament that granted King Henry VIII sovereignty over the Church of England. Passed in November of 1534, this act declared that Henry was “the only supreme head on earth of the Church of England,” thereby repudiating the authority of the pope and Catholicism over the Church in England. The context for this act was Henry’s desire to annul his first marriage with Catherine of Aragon, since the pope had refused to grant the request. Although the act was repealed by Queen Mary I in 1554, the daughter of Henry and Catherine, Queen Elizabeth I reinstated it. Thomas Cromwell, Henry’s chief advisor, saw this act through Parliament, and it was instrumental in the emergence of Protestantism in England. The act additionally granted Henry “all honours, dignities, preeminences, jurisdictions, privileges, authorities, immunities, profits, and commodities to the said dignity.” Henry immediately began reaping the benefits of his new office, as he dissolved hundreds of Catholic monasteries and redirected revenue toward himself rather than Rome. From the perspective of the English Reformation, this act ultimately opened the door for leaders like Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, to develop an English Church along Protestant lines rather than Catholic ones. Documents of the English Reformation, ed. Bray 1994, and Rex, Henry VIII and the English Reformation 1993. D.C.

Adiaphora The Lutheran reformers used this Greek word meaning “indifferent” or “undifferentiated” to describe worship practices and human traditions “which are neither commanded nor forbidden in God’s Word.” Having stated in the Augsburg Confession that the pure teaching of the Gospel and the right use of the sacraments was sufficient for Christian unity, Lutherans allowed for Christian freedom in other matters, especially ecclesiastical rites and spiritual practices still under dispute. Examples of such adiaphora included the wearing of clerical vestments, the distinction of foods, and the observation of holy days. Although “adiaphora” does not appear in the Augsburg Confession itself, Melanchthon used it in the Apology to the Augsburg Confession, when 355

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 355

12/19/2000 10:09:02 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

he wrote that for the sake of Christian unity and love, the Protestants would be willing to accept some traditions that they considered non-essential for salvation. Thus, adiaphora provided both a negative and positive principle for church practice: not only could adiaphoristic matters be neglected without sin but they could also be observed freely and in good conscience. Emperor Charles V’s imposition of the Augsburg Interim on Protestant lands launched the Adiaphoristic Controversy in 1548. Wittenberg theologians, including Melanchthon, turned to the category of adiaphora to negotiate some of the Interim’s re-Catholicizing mandates. They were criticized by other Lutherans, who declared that during times of persecution there are no adiaphora but only occasions for confessing the Gospel. The 1577 Formula of Concord’s answer to this controversy acknowledged both the existence of adiaphora as a matter of Christian freedom and the need for bold confession in times of persecution. The Book of Concord, Kolb and Wengert, eds. 2001 and Kolb, Confessing the Faith, 1991. M.J.L.

Adoration Undertaken predominantly by Roman Catholic Christians, adoration is the practice of exposing the Eucharistic species of bread for worship. Since Roman Catholics hold the doctrine of transubstantiation, they also believe that the Eucharistic species deserve the highest possible form of worship that is due to God alone, called latria; adoration provides an outlet for such devotion outside, though not understood separately from, the Mass. Since early times, Roman Catholic practice had permitted the reservation of a portion of the consecrated bread for those who could not be present at the Mass, particularly the sick. This reserved bread was kept in a special receptacle called a tabernacle and slowly became a center of devotion for lay people and religious. As the practice gained popularity in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, technological feats, such as the growing availability of transparent glass necessary for the display of the Eucharist, helped the practice to spread. It was quite common by the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In the practice itself, the Eucharistic bread is displayed on the altar in a sunburst container called a monstrance. Some monastic communities performed perpetual adoration, meaning that the Eucharistic species was displayed and worshipped constantly when Mass was not being said. When the ritual is not perpetual, the closing rite is called benediction, at the end of which the Eucharistic bread is returned to the tabernacle. During the Reformation, the practice was much contested for at least two reasons. First, the practice was perceived as detracting from the centrality of the actual eating of the Eucharist (see Jn 6.53). Secondly, and more seriously, 356

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 356

12/19/2000 10:09:02 AM

A Reformation ABC

some charged the practice with outright idolatry since it treats an inanimate physical object as if it were God (see Exodus 20.2–6). Tanner, “Decree on the most holy sacrament of the eucharist,” in Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils Volume II Trent-Vatican II, 1990, pages 693–702; Church of England, “Of the Sacraments,” in Articles of Religion XXV. 2005. Davis, This is My Body: The Presence of Christ in Reformation Thought, 2008. B.E.H.

Agricola, Johann c. 1494–1566 Born in Eisleben in c.1494, Agricola attended university first at Leipzig and later at Wittenberg. As a student in Wittenberg, he kept minutes at the 1519 Leipzig Disputation. In 1525, Agricola returned to Eisleben as pastor and as director of the newly established Latin school. That same year he published a commentary on Luke and Luther invited him to write a catechism, which became his “130 Questions.” Agricola came into conflict with Melanchthon in 1527 over the relationship between Law and Gospel (the first Antinomian Controversy), believing that preaching God’s wrath through the law was not necessary for Christians. Agricola was invited to be court preacher for Elector John the Steadfast at several imperial diets, including the 1530 Diet of Augsburg. While living in Wittenberg in 1537, Agricola resumed his dispute with Melanchthon; in this second Antinomian Controversy, he grew estranged from Luther and left the city. Luther and the later Formula of Concord decided against him regarding the preaching of Law and Gospel. From 1540 until his death in 1566, Agricola was court preacher in Brandenburg. In this role, he worked with Catholic theologians and helped write Emperor Charles V’s controversial Augsburg Interim. In addition to his theological work, Agricola also collected German sayings. He is sometimes known as “Magister Eisleben” after his hometown. Agricola, “One Hundred Thirty Common Questions,” in Sources and Contexts of the Book of Concord, Kolb and Nestigen, 2001 and Wengert, Law and Gospel: Philip Melanchthon’s Debate with John Agricola of Eisleben over Poenitentia, 1997. M.J.L.

Alveldt, Augustin Born to a relatively obscure background in the Hannovarian town of Alvelt, Augustin would rise to become a lecturer at a Franciscan monastery in Leipzig. Alveldt was an early public critic and polemicist of Martin Luther. His decrying of Luther led the reformer of Wittenberg to label him as: “that ass.” In 1520, he was asked by Bishop Adolf von Anhalt to respond to the 357

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 357

12/19/2000 10:09:02 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Lutheran assault on the papacy. Though his response, “Super apostolic sede . . . ,” was well reasoned, Luther denied Alveldt the honor of a personal response and delegated his response to a subordinate, Johannes Lonicer. Lonicer’s response lacked the refinement of Alveldt’s, and was, ultimately, an attack on Alveldt’s person. Thus was launched what would be a cycle of call and response between Alveldt and Luther. 1520 saw Alveldt compose no less than nine specific polemical tracts against Martin Luther, his theology, and the Lutheran church movement. Ultimately, Alveldt termed Luther “a son of perdition” and damned his ecclesiastical following as: “a church of the wicked.” Later years saw Alveldt elevated as the provincial head of the Franciscan order. From 1529 until his death in 1535 Alveldt worked to preserve the Franciscan community in Germany and counter the growing swell of the Reformation. Bagchi, Luther’s Earliest Opponents, 1991; Smolinsky, Augustin von Alveldt und Hieronymus Esmeri, 1983. A.L.W.

Amsdorf, Nikolaus (1483–1565) Amsdorf was professor of theology at the University of Wittenberg from 1511 and trained in the scholastic tradition of Scotism. He became a personal friend of Luther, appearing with him at the Leipzig debate (1519) and at the Diet of Worms (1521). Amsdorf began a pastorate in Magdeburg in 1524. Prince John Fredrick of Electoral Saxony appointed him bishop of Naumburg-Zeitz in 1542. The local chapter opposed Amsdorf’s appointment, but he stayed on with Luther’s encouragement. In 1547, he capitulated to Julius von Pflug, and returned to Magdeburg in 1548. There he became a leader of the GnesioLutherans. He moved to Eisenach in 1552 serving as “general inspector and ecclesiastical counselor” under John Fredrick. Amsdorf is an important interpreter of Luther’s legacy, especially Luther’s Bondage of the Will (1525). Amsdorf taught that the hidden will of God makes all things happen by necessity, conceding that contingency exists from the human viewpoint. He also used Luther’s image of Satan riding the human will until unseated by Christ. Amsdorf rejected Melanchthon’s teaching, in the 1535 Loci communes, that the human will is one of the three causes of salvation. Amsdorf distinguished the elect, as those whom God predestines to mercy, from the reprobate, as those whom God leaves in their sin. Amsdorf also rejected Melanchthon’s position on adiaphora during the Leipzig Interim, holding that no concessions could be made to Catholic practices for the sake of peace with the emperor. Amsdorf also supported the Magdeburg Confession of 1550, and its view that Lutheran churches must resist the Emperor through “lesser magistrates.” At Eisenach 358

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 358

12/19/2000 10:09:02 AM

A Reformation ABC

in 1556, Amsdorf argued against the Interim’s proposition that “good works are necessary for salvation,” emphasizing the danger of works-righteousness in the Christian life. Kolb, Nikolaus von Amsdorf (1483–1565): Popular Polemics in the Preservation of Luther’s Legacy; 1978; Steinmetz, “Nikolaus von Amsdorf (1483–1565): Set for the Defense of the Gospel,” in Reformers in the Wings, 2nd edn, 2001, 70–5. M.H.

Anfechtung A German word that is rarely used in modern German but was used by Luther to describe the torments of conscience he experienced throughout his life. This word is variously translated into English as attack, trial, temptation, assault and torment. Anfechtungen were common experiences of monastic life, and Luther the monk was no exception. He struggled with scrupulosity and questions about his salvation to such an extent that he experienced long periods of melancholy and anxiety. It was Luther’s confessor, Johann von Staupitz, who told Luther to look beyond these concerns and instead to focus on Christ’s suffering. It was also Staupitz who suggested that Luther should not consider his bouts with Anfechtungen a moral weakness but instead a process by which God strengthens faith. Subsequently, Luther began to see these experiences as a means for learning to rely on God instead of himself. For Luther, the attacks originated with the devil, who wanted Christians to be terrified at their sinfulness and doubtful about their salvation. Luther’s response was to cling to the certainty of God’s promise of forgiveness. Theologically, this contradicted the late medieval teaching that Christians can never be certain of their salvation. While Luther warned against the temptation to search God’s will in order to know who is saved, he assured Christians that they could rely on God’s promise of grace. Because Anfechtungen exercised faith in this promise, Luther came to see them as an integral part of Christian life instead of a sign of weak faith. Brecht, Martin Luther: His Road to Reformation, 1483–1521, 1985 and Oberman, Luther: Man between God and the Devil, 1989. A.M.J.

Antichrist Coming from a Greek term that means “against” or “in place of” Christ, this refers to any person or entity that opposes Jesus Christ. The term occurs five 359

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 359

12/19/2000 10:09:02 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

times in the New Testament, appearing only in 1 and 2 John. In 1 John 2:18, the author connects the coming of (the) Antichrist with the “last hour” or the end of the world: “Children, it is the last hour! As you have heard that antichrist is coming, so now many antichrists have come. From this we know that it is the last hour” (NRSV). Christian interpreters have variously identified the Antichrist (or Antichrists) throughout the history of the church, but there is no consensus as to whom this person or entity may be. While early Christians like Didymus the Blind (313–98) tended to associate Antichrists with those who had left the church in order to practice and teach their own unorthodox beliefs, Protestant theologians during the Reformation such as Martin Luther and John Calvin identified the Antichrist as the pope. Many Protestant confessional statements during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries continued this practice. For instance, the Lutheran Smalcald Articles (1537) explain that “the Pope is the very Antichrist” (Article 4), while the Reformed Westminster Confession of Faith (1646) states that “There is no other head of the Church but the Lord Jesus Christ: nor can the Pope of Rome in any sense be head thereof; but is that Antichrist, that man of sin and son of perdition, that exalts himself in the Church against Christ” (Article 25). Hill, Anti-Christ in Seventeenth-Century England, 1971 and Emerson, Antichrist in the Middle Ages, 1981. D.C.

Anticlericalism In the late Middle Ages, calls for church reform resonated with people— including many clergy—who were displeased with the conduct of religious leaders and institutions. Since the nineteenth century, such critiques of religious leaders have been called “anticlericalism.” Complaints against church leaders spanned the entire hierarchy. Monks might be viewed as living a life of idleness, especially those in mendicant orders. Parish priests were sometimes criticized for charging money for the sacraments, for a lack of biblical preaching, and for having mistresses. Bishops were often absent from their posts and, like some priests, received income from local endowments despite poor service. At the top of the hierarchy, popes like Alexander VI and Julius II exemplified worldly pomp and excess rather than spiritual service. Popular movements for increased local autonomy often made use of such critiques. High profile attacks against clerical negligence or abuses on the eve of the Reformation included Sebastian Brant’s Ship of Fools (1494), Erasmus of Rotterdam’s In Praise of Folly (1511), and Luther’s 95 Theses (1517). While

360

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 360

12/19/2000 10:09:02 AM

A Reformation ABC

Christians differed widely about the shape that institutional reforms should take, both the laity and concerned church leaders looked for ways to limit abuses by those in religious offices. Dykema and Oberman, Anticlericalism in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe, 1993. M.J.L.

Antinominism Defined, in its most simple form, as “license,” the term saw great usage and was the center of much controversy throughout the Reformation. Early controversy erupted in 1527 and centered around Melanchthon and Agricola, and their understanding of the use of the law in repentance. Though the disagreement between Melanchthon and Agricola would ultimately be settled by Martin Luther, Agricola would spark a new round of controversy in 1536 which would be known properly as: “The First Antinomian Controversy.” As with Agricola’s prior altercation with Melanchthon, controversy centered over the role of the law in the concept of repentance and justification. Agricola saw the Law as superfluous to the Gospel; thus leading to conflict with Melanchthon and, ultimately, Martin Luther. Though Luther worked to strike a balance between the apparently libertine Agricola and the strict Melanchthon, he would ultimately side against Agricola. While 1537 would see the reformers worked to reconcile with one another, their efforts would ultimately be futile as the subsequent 3 years would witness a series of complaints, reconciliations, and new complaints develop between the three reformers. Ultimately, in 1540 Agricola would withdraw his complaints against Luther and refute his own previous understanding of the Law. A second round of controversy erupted in 1550 and would last until 1580. Though originally contested between Melanchthon and Matthias Flacius Illyricus, who was more a devotee of Luther than Melanchthon, the dispute would ultimately be left to their followers. This second round of confrontation would primarily be focused around reconciling Melanchthon’s understanding of the law and its usage visa-vis Martin Luther’s more moderate position. Ultimately, all parties would find a tenuous peace in the Formula of Concord, which sought to emphasise both the need for good works, the spontaneity of those works, and the law’s coercive powers. Wengert, Law and Gospel: Philip Melanchthon’s Debate with John Agricola of Eisleben over Poenitentia, 1997. A.L.W.

361

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 361

12/19/2000 10:09:02 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Apocalypticism Focuses on the end of the world. The term comes from a Greek word that means “revelation” or “disclosure.” This term is most frequently connected in Christian theology with the book of Revelation (the Apocalypse). Although there is currently no scholarly consensus regarding the exact definition of apocalyptic literature, distinctive features include: visions or messages from angels and other-worldly beings; an unveiling of what will happen in the future; a cosmic battle of good versus evil; and bizarre imagery or symbolism. Historically, apocalyptic literature was most popular and prominent between 200 BCE and 200 CE. In the Hebrew Scriptures, the book of Daniel, which many scholars date in the second century BCE, is the only apocalyptic book and it features heavily in the book of Revelation, which is likewise the only apocalyptic work in the New Testament canon. Throughout the history of the church, Christian interpreters regularly read books like Daniel and Revelation in the belief that the end of the world could happen in their generations. Although theologians like Augustine (354–430) argued against reading Revelation literally and thereby focusing undue attention on matters of the future (known as eschatology within Christian theology), medieval interpreters like Joachim of Fiore (1135–1202) organized Christianity into three ages, based on his understanding of apocalypticism: the age of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, the last of which he believed included his generation and which he discussed at length in his commentary on Revelation. Protestant interpreters during the Reformation like Martin Luther and John Calvin followed Augustine in not devoting considerable attention to apocalyptic works. Calvin, in fact, despite writing a commentary on every other New Testament book (save 2 and 3 John) did not write one on Revelation. McGinn, The Calabrian Abbot, 1985. D.C.

Apostolicity Relates to a doctrine or belief that originates with one or all of the original twelve apostles of Christ. For instance, it can describe one of the primary ways in which the early church determined which books were rightly included in the New Testament canon. Every book in the canon, for example, had to be either written by or associated with one of the apostles in order to be canonical. In relation to the four Gospels, the early church appealed to apostolicity in this way: The early tradition believed that the Gospel of Matthew was written by Matthew (or Levi in Aramaic), one of the original twelve apostles; the Gospel of Mark was written by Mark, the disciple of Peter (see 1 Peter 362

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 362

12/19/2000 10:09:02 AM

A Reformation ABC

5:13); the Gospel of Luke was written by Luke, a disciple of Paul (see Acts); and the Gospel of John was written by the apostle John. Similarly, apostolic succession is the doctrine by which the succession of Christian bishops is historically and directly traceable to the original twelve apostles, thereby proving the authenticity and validity of the bishops’ authority. The pope, in particular, could appeal to apostolic succession in combination with passages like Matthew 16:18 to defend his authority as the successor to Peter, through whom Christ had built his church. Reformers like John Calvin, however, rejected both the papacy and the belief that Peter exercised any special influence over the apostles. Calvin argued instead that Christ built his church not on Peter or even necessarily on the apostles but rather on Peter’s universal confession in Matthew 16:16, which states that Jesus is the Christ (or Messiah) and the Son of the Living God, thereby rejecting the authority of the papal system. Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion; and Luther, Against the Papacy at Rome. D.C.

Aristotle (384 B.C.–322 B.C.) Aristotle was a Greek philosopher who created a comprehensive system of philosophy that significantly influenced scholastic theology of the Middle Ages. The Renaissance and the early Reformation tended to criticize scholastic theology for creating comprehensive rational systems of theology (summae) based on Aristotle’s Logic and his other philosophical writings like Ethics. Luther, in Babylonian Captivity of the Church (1521), said that Thomas Aquinas was to be “pitied . . . for attempting to draw his opinions in matters of faith from Aristotle.” Luther suspected that scholastic theologians introduced philosophical assumptions from Aristotle’s Ethics into their treatments of the doctrine of justification. In his Disputation against Scholastic Theology (1517), Luther asserted: “We do not become righteous by doing righteous deeds but, having been made righteous, we do righteous deeds. . . . Virtually the entire Ethics of Aristotle is the worst enemy of grace.” But Luther did not have a problem with Aristotle as a natural philosopher: “In civil life the situation is different; here one becomes a doer on the basis of deeds, just as one becomes a lutenist by often playing the lute, as Aristotle says” (Lectures on Galatians [1535]). Luther could use Aristotle’s logical categories to expound Scripture. Luther referred to faith, in Aristotelian terms, as the “formal righteousness, on account of which a person is justified” (Galatians). Calvin also rejected Aristotelian philosophy in theology, especially justification, but plundered Aristotle when distinguishing between human nature in terms of its created substance and its corrupted accidents, the four causes of salvation, 363

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 363

12/19/2000 10:09:03 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

and culpable ignorance. Philip Melanchthon lectured and wrote extensively on Aristotle’s Ethics, Politics, and Physics, while also warning against scholastic misapplications. The late Reformation fully revived Aristotelian method by 1570, as theologians like the Reformed Theodore Beze and the Lutheran Martin Chemnitz used Aristotle to demonstrate the coherence of their theology in the face of attacks from Catholics and other Protestants. Asselt and Dekker, eds, Reformation and Scholasticism: An Ecumenical Enterprise, 2001; Grane, “Luther and Scholasticism,” in Luther and Learning: The Wittenberg University Luther Symposium, 1985, 52–68; Trueman and Clark, eds, Protestant Scholasticism: Essays in Reassessment, 2007. M.H.

Arminius, Jacobus (1559–1609) (James Arminius/Jacob Harmenszoon). As the pastor of a Reformed church in Amsterdam (1588–1603), two sermons in the early 1590s on Romans (chapters 7, 9) created controversy regarding election. He was supported by the Amsterdam Consistory on both. As Leiden theology professor (1603–1609), he specifically rejected both pre-Fall and post-Fall predestination in a 1604 lecture. He stated that decreed salvation or damnation was based upon God’s foreknowledge of perseverance—or non-perseverance—of particular persons, that God willed all to be saved, that the human will is free, and that grace is sufficient but not irresistible. He professed the Belgic Confession, argued that it supported these views, but joined classes and synods calling for its revision. Also held that the Heidelberg Confession supported him. After a Leiden split between the Arminians and the Gomarians (following Arminius’ faculty opponent, Franz Gomar/Franciscus Gomarus), the States of Holland called them to joint disputation; then individual presentations, all in 1604. Arminius’ was entitled “Declaration of Sentiments.” After his death, Arminianism was developed by the five Remonstrant articles (1610), subsequently repudiated by the Synod of Dort (1618–1619). John Wesley claimed his theology as Arminian. The Works of James Arminius, trans. Nichols and Nichols, 1986; Bangs, Arminus: A Study in the Dutch Reformation, 1985. B.H.G.

Articles of Religion The defining statements and articles of faith in the Church of England (or Anglicanism). The Articles of Religion went through several stages of

364

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 364

12/19/2000 10:09:03 AM

A Reformation ABC

development between 1536 and 1571 as the English Church sought to define itself in relation to Roman Catholicism and Continental Protestantism. Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, first composed the Ten Articles in 1536. During Edwards’s reign, in 1552, Cranmer expanded his original draft and composed the Forty-Two Articles. However, upon Queen Mary’s ascension to the throne in 1553, the Articles were never enforced as binding. It would not be until Mary’s Protestant half-sister, Elizabeth I, took the throne that the Articles of Religion would be completed and enforced. In 1563, under the guidance of Archbishop of Canterbury Matthew Parker, the Forty-Two Articles were reduced to Thirty-Eight Articles. Although Elizabeth had originally sought to remove the 39th Article because it offended Catholics, her excommunication by the pope in 1570 made this unnecessary. The final version of the Articles of Religion was completed in 1571, appearing in both Latin and English. The Articles are divided into four sections: Articles 1–8 deal with the Christian faith, namely, the nature of God, the Scriptures, and the ecumenical creeds; Articles 9–18 deal with personal religion, namely, justification and predestination; Articles 19–31 deal with corporate religion, namely, tradition, the sacraments, and worship; Articles 32–39 deal with various topics relating to excommunication, clerical celibacy, and oaths. Documents of the English Reformation, ed., Bray, 2004 and MacCulloch, Thomas Cranmer, 1998. D.C.

Astrology The prevalence of astrology in European culture reached its apogee in the centuries preceding and spanning the Reformation. In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the church repeatedly condemned the practice of using the stars to predict events, yet both laity and clergy often looked to the heavens to see the future and interpret the present. In the late fifteenth century, the printing press helped spread the practice of astrology by producing popular one-page calendars with star charts and interpretations for that year. In the Reformation, various reformers held quite different views on astrology. Luther, for example, thought it interfered with the Christian’s ability to trust God in all circumstances, and therefore that it was a form of idolatry. However, Luther’s closest colleague, Philip Melanchthon, regarded astrology as the divine at work in the cosmos. As the Reformation continued, German Lutherans in particular tended to use astrology to interpret their movement’s significance in the divine plan. These interpretations often merged

365

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 365

12/19/2000 10:09:03 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

with apocalyptic understandings of the Reformation to urge patience in tribulation and repentance before the coming judgment. Barnes, Prophecy and Gnosis: Apocalypticism in the Wake of the Lutheran Reformation, 1988 and Curry, Prophecy and Power: Astrology in Early Modern England, 1989. A.M.J.

Atonement Atonement is the doctrine which concerns the mediating role that Christ played both in life and through the cross in reconciling God and a broken creation, most especially a sinful humanity. The word “atonement” was coined during the Reformation by the English bible translator William Tyndale in 1525 as a translation for katallege from Romans 5.11. The word was a neologism that reflects the Greek sense of bringing two estranged parties together. Classically, there are three major approaches to the Atonement. The cosmocentric theory of the Atonement focuses on Christ’s victory over the devil. The theocentric, or Substitutionary, theory was best described by Anselm in Cur deus homo where the God-man pays the debt of sin on behalf of sinful humanity by substituting himself upon the judgment seat of God’s justice. The anthropocentric theory posited by Abelard focuses on the change wrought by Christ’s sacrifice within the life of the believer which is transformed by God’s love poured out in cross. The Reformers used all three models at different times. Luther’s approach to the Atonement has been much debated. At points he focuses attention on Christ’s victory to such an extent that Gustaf Aulén argued in Christus Victor that he revived a long ignored theory. However, Luther also focuses considerable attention on the “happy exchange” in which Christ joyfully exchanges his divine righteousness for humanity’s sinfulness and suffered and died as a sinful man on the cross. John Calvin largely followed Anselm and Luther in highlighting the penal and substitutionary nature of Christ’s cross. Aulén, Christus Victor, 1969.

Augsburg, Peace of Resulting from the defeat of the Schmalkaldic League by Charles V, the peace was one which would prove to be one of the most important legal and ecclesiastical edicts of early modern Germany and would be de-facto law until the demise of the Holy Roman Empire in the early 19th century. While the 1521 Diet of Worms had provided censure and ban against Martin Luther and his followers, such efforts would not begin to be implemented, for various reasons, until 1526. This would eventually lead to the leaders of Hesse and Saxony 366

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 366

12/19/2000 10:09:03 AM

A Reformation ABC

forming the political entity known as the “Schmalkaldic League” in 1531. The Schmalkaldic League was eventually be defeated and brought under tertiary Imperial control in the Diet of Augsburg and its subsequent Augsburg Interim issued in 1547/48. While the Interim was particularly Catholic in its religious interpretation, it did provide conciliatory measures for those aligned with the Reformation. However, while the Interim’s stance on faith had some popular support, its absolutist political policies engendered resistance among those in power within the German provinces. This resulted in the 1550/51 Princes Rebellion which proved to be a major de-stabilization to Imperial policy and, ultimately, led to Charles’ abdication. The subsequent 1555 Diet of Augsburg and the peace it promulgated was designed as a compromise which sought to settle questions of Imperial authority and the dual ecclesiastical philosophies competing for prominence in the German provinces. The peace sought to establish: equality among the Roman Catholic and Lutheran understandings of faith, independent ecclesiastical jurisdiction per faith, and the freedom of the ruling class to establish which faith would be practiced in their specific province. This was solidified in the legal doctrine of cuius regio, eius religio (he who reigns, his religion) While the peace allowed for such concessions, it did not subsequently allow for individual citizens to determine their ecclesiastical proclivities. Should a citizen not agree with their ruler’s choice of faith, they were free to sell their property and emigrate to a more compatible province; baring such action, a common citizen was still beholden to their ruler’s theological whims. Elton, The Reformation, 1962; Holborn, History of Modern Germany, 1959. A.L.W.

Augsburg Confession The Augsburg Confession is the statement of faith submitted by a number of estates (i.e., nobles) and Free Imperial Cities who were theologically aligned with Martin Luther to Holy Roman Emperor Charles V at the 1530 Diet of Augsburg. Published the following year, it quickly became a normative statement of Lutheran theology; it retains that status among Lutheran church bodies today. The Augsburg Confession was the work of a team of theologians, including Luther, Melanchthon, Brenz, Bugenhagen and Jonas, who prepared articles for the imperial diet at meetings in Schwabach, Marburg, and Torgau. Because Luther—condemned by the emperor in the 1521 Edict of Worms— could not travel outside of Saxony, Melanchthon gave the work its final shape as he addressed ongoing Roman critiques of evangelical (Lutheran) theology. The Lutherans viewed this confession as their chance to show the emperor and the wider public their continuity with the Christian tradition in the face 367

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 367

12/19/2000 10:09:03 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

of papal opposition. Accused of propagating several heresies, they stressed faithfulness to the teachings of the church and rejection of movements that deviated from orthodox doctrines of God and Christian salvation. The first 21 articles summarize Lutheran teaching, especially in light of justification by faith (article four); the last seven articles describe “correction of abuses” in Christian life and worship, including communion in two kinds, the marriage of priests, and monastic vows. Charles V did not accept the Lutheran position at the diet; instead he approved the “Roman Confutation,” written by Catholic theologians against the Augsburg Confession. In response to this confutation, Melanchthon composed the Apology to the Augsburg Confession in 1531. Although Melanchthon continued to edit the Confession to address later theological controversies, it is the “Unaltered” Augsburg Confession that has most frequently provided the standard for Lutheran teaching and practice. “The Augsburg Confession” in The Book of Concord, Kolb and Wengert, eds, 2000; Gassmann and Hendrix, Fortress Introduction to the Lutheran Confessions, 1999; Grane, The Augsburg Confession: A Commentary, 1987. M.J.L.

Augsburg Interim At the Battle of Mühlberg in April 1547, Holy Roman Emperor Charles V defeated Saxon Elector John Frederick and won the Smalcaldic War. Charles had avoided the appearance of conducting a religious war by gaining the neutrality of many Lutheran territories and, in the case of Duke Moritz of Albertine Saxony, joining forces with a Lutheran ruler. Before the war, Charles had agreed that he would transfer the Saxon electorship to Moritz, expand Albertine territory, and not make religious changes in Saxony. At the 1548 Diet of Augsburg, however, Charles published an interim religious settlement, known as the Augsburg Interim, for use in Protestant lands until the Council of Trent ended. The Interim marked a return to Catholic theology and practice, while temporarily conceding communion in both kinds and clerical marriage. In southern Germany, Charles enforced his Interim militarily. Hundreds of pastors fled or went into hiding, including Bucer, Brenz, and Osiander. The new Saxon elector Moritz, however, delayed enforcement in his lands by inviting Lutheran theologians to work with his political advisors and re-instated Catholic bishops. To this end, Philip Melanchthon, Georg von Anhalt and others crafted alternative religious policies for Saxony that they then submitted to the advisors and bishops. One such hybrid document was presented at the Leipzig political assembly in late 1548. Although significantly reworked by the advisors and not approved by the Saxon political estates or the Catholic bishops, this document (later published surreptitiously as the 368

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 368

12/19/2000 10:09:03 AM

A Reformation ABC

“Leipzig Interim”) came to be identified entirely as the work of Melanchthon and his colleagues. In the ensuing adiaphoristic controversy, these theologians were accused of betraying Lutheran theology for political expediency. While the Augsburg Interim became a dead letter when a new alliance defeated Charles V in 1552, the controversies it generated continued to dominate Lutheran theological discourse for decades. “The Augsburg Interim” in Sources and Contexts of the Book of Concord, Kolb and Nestigen, 2001; Wengert, “Not by Nature Philoneikos: Philip Melanchthon’s Initial Reactions to the Augsburg Interim,” in Politik und Bekenntnis: Die Reaktionen auf das Interim von 1548, 2006. M.J.L.

Augustine of Hippo (354–430) Bishop of Hippo in North Africa (present day, Algeria) and one of the most influential theologians of the Western church. Augustine was born in Thagaste to a Christian Berber woman named Monica and a non-Christian Roman father named Patricius. He received a solid training in rhetoric and Latin literature in North Africa before finishing his schooling in Rome and thereafter moving to Milan to become a teacher of rhetoric. At Milan Augustine came under the influence of Bishop Ambrose who, together with his religious mother, led Augustine to become a catholic Christian. Before this time, Augustine had been influenced by Manichaeism and Platonism, dualistic religions and philosophies that divided good (the soul and spiritual) from evil (the physical and matter). Augustine converted to Christianity in 386 and devoted himself solely to the religious life—abandoning his teaching post, and taking on the vows of celibacy and poverty. Ambrose baptized Augustine (and his illegitimate son, who died shortly thereafter) in the following year, at which time he departed permanently to North Africa. Ten years later Augustine became the Bishop of Hippo, a post which he held for the rest of his life. As a bishop, he worked tirelessly in behalf of the church—by means of sermons he preached, letters he composed, biblical and theological documents he formulated, and councils he attended. Augustine was a prolific writer, who left to posterity a breadth of theological writings that greatly influenced, among others, the first Protestant theologians like Martin Luther and John Calvin, who appealed to Augustine, most notably his views on justification, for confirmation of their views that people are justified by faith rather than by works. Augustine, Confessions, City of God, and On Christian Doctrine, and Brown, Augustine of Hippo, 2000. D.C. 369

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 369

12/19/2000 10:09:03 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Ban Grounded in a central concern for a pure, visible church, first generation Anabaptists emphasized believer’s baptism and church discipline, defining the latter in terms of fraternal admonition and the ban. When tied to the Lord’s Supper, baptism and fraternal admonition/the ban formed a logically and functionally interconnected ecclesiology. A believer entered into the community via baptism; the Lord’s Supper publically confirmed and tested each believer’s baptismal faithfulness to God and the community; fraternal admonition and the ban served to convict unrepentant sinners of baptismal unfaithfulness with the hope of achieving confession and restitution. Such views were not without scriptural support. Appealing to passages such as Matthew 18:15–20, early Anabaptists detailed a three-stage process for dealing with unrepentant sinners within the church: private confrontation; admonition in the midst of one or two witnesses; and finally public admonition before the entire congregation. If each step failed, the unrepentant sinner would then be banned barring the making of amends. Banning ranged from exclusion from the Lord’s Supper to full-fledged excommunication. Discussion concerning the proper extent of the ban, most notably Menno Simons’ argument for the priority of discipline even over marital relations, caused significant and lasting divisions within early Anabaptism. Peters, “The Ban in the Writings of Menno Simons,” in Mennonite Quarterly Review, 29 (1955): 16–33; Klaassen, ed., Anabaptism in Outline, 1981. J.H.

Baptism Baptism is a Christian sacrament bestowing forgiveness of sins, reception of the Holy Spirit, and union with Christ’s death and resurrection. The ritual consists of a candidate being immersed in water or having water poured over the head in the name of the Triune God. Roman Catholic, Lutheran, and Reformed churches largely agreed on the theology and practice of the Christian sacrament of baptism, especially the place of infant baptism. Arguments for infant baptism came from the baptism of entire households in the New Testament (e.g. Acts 16:33) and the example of the early church. Disagreement between these groups regarding baptism centered on original sin and regeneration in the baptized. Roman Catholics taught that original sin was entirely removed in baptism and that concupiscence (the spark of sin remaining in Christians after baptism) was not itself sin, enabling Christians to do good works without sin. Lutherans believed that concupiscence was indeed original sin and that it remained in the baptized in this life and tainted all good works; this is 370

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 370

12/19/2000 10:09:03 AM

A Reformation ABC

expressed in Luther’s phrase simul justus et peccator (simultaneously righteous and sinner). Reformed theologians agreed with Lutherans that original sin remains in Christians after baptism but, closer to the Roman position, emphasized the new baptismal obligation to obey God’s law. All of these groups condemned—and sometimes violently persecuted—the Anabaptists, who taught that true baptism follows repentance and emendation of life; they thereby excluded infant baptism. Despite differences about the right use of the sacrament, the Donatist controversy in the early church gave Reformation-era Christians the precedent for believing that baptisms performed by heretics or theological opponents nevertheless constitute valid baptisms into Christian faith and life. Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry, World Council of Churches, Commission on Faith and Order, 1982; Spierling, Infant Baptism in Reformation Geneva, 2005. M.J.L.

Basel Basel officially joined the Swiss Confederation in 1501. Confederated Swiss states had just defeated imperial Habsburg forces and thereby wrested concessions that put the alpine alliance in a position of disproportionate strength. Basel’s new Swiss political bulwark, and its strategic location, celebrated university, and prosperous investment in innovative printing technologies all contributed to the city’s status as a center of European life. Study of ancient languages and new iterations of classical philosophy flourished in an atmosphere of vibrant inquiry. The celebrated humanist Desiderius Erasmus contributed enormous cultural clout when he moved to Basel; Huldrych Zwingli received formative education at its university; John Calvin’s first edition of the Institutes was published there; and Sebastian Castellio and other unusually progressive proponents of liberty of conscience came to call Basel home. Although many early sixteenth-century humanists in Basel sought to navigate between the militant camps of religious conflict, the learned evangelical leader, Johannes Oecolampadius, made common cause with Huldrych Zwingli. Oecolampadius represented Basel at the Swiss disputation of 1526, whereupon Basel began its more recognizably evangelical course. It refused (along with Bern, Schaffhausen, and Zurich) to consent to the Catholic delegation’s condemnation of Zwingli. The church of Basel produced an independent Confession of Faith in 1534. In the larger Swiss framework, Reformed delegates met at Basel in 1536 in order to adopt the First Helvetic (or, “Second Basel”) Confession of Faith, a document that was to serve as Basel’s primary religious statement into the nineteenth century. This was possibly the closest thing to a consensus document between Swiss Reformed and German 371

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 371

12/19/2000 10:09:03 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Lutherans of the era. Physical and cultural proximity to Alsace gave Basel greater entry into regional conflicts between Lutheran and Reformed partisans than was the case for other Swiss evangelical states. While Lutheranism never achieved lasting hegemony in Basel, the city’s religious identity maintained a certain aloofness from the bloc of Swiss Reformed confederates. Basel would continue, for example, to print treatises that leaders of church and state elsewhere had opposed, and, alone among the Swiss Reformed, Basel refused to sign the Second Helvetic Confession of 1566. Brady, Turning Swiss: Cities and Empire, 1450–1550, 1985. J.W.

Belgic Confession Written by Guy de Bres, a Calvinist minister from the area of Mons in the Low Countries, this confession was first seen in 1561. It is thought that the Belgic Confession may have been written as early as 1559, however, there is great confusion as to the origins of the confession. The confession made early appearances in French, Dutch, and Latin. While it would go on to become one of the most authoritative texts for the Reformed church in the Low Countries, it would also become a foundational text for Reformed Christianity. In its earliest years, the confession would see various revisions and augmentations, ultimately culminating with the Synod of Dordrecht in 1618/19. At Dordrecht, a very carefully revised version, based off of existing translations, was authorized. Though it was a carefully considered revision, the Dordrecht version differed from the French version, which subsequently would go on to be the most prominent version in circulation. Though its origins are murky and fraught with revision, what is known for certain is that the document bears a significant similarity to the Gallic Confession of 1559, which was drafted by John Calvin. Though appearing quite similar to its Gallic predecessor, the Belgic Confession plumbs far greater depths than its predecessor. In the Belgic, issues of the nature of God, the authority of Scripture, and church discipline are given great and detailed treatment. Also of significance is, what seems to be, the confession’s need to distinguish the theology of the Reformed churches vis-a-vis the Anabaptist movement. This is accomplished, primarily, through the confession’s detailing of the theologies of baptism and the Incarnation. The confession is also responsible for detailing the Reformed understanding of government and the church’s understanding and interaction with it. Gootjes, The Belgic Confession: Its History and Sources, 2007. A.L.W. 372

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 372

12/19/2000 10:09:04 AM

A Reformation ABC

Beza, Theodore (1519–1605) Theodore Beza (or, de Bèze) was born into a family of nobility in Vézelay, France, in the region of Burgundy. Though not of eminent rank, the Beza family had wealth and status sufficient to procure an excellent education for their son. He was sent to Paris, Orleans, and Bourges. Young Beza became a protégé of the celebrated humanist, Melchior Wolmar, and in the process he also began a lifelong friendship with John Calvin, another humanist then in Wolmar’s circle. After religious and political circumstances in France led to his mentor’s return to Germany, Beza completed his degree in civil law at Orleans in 1539. Only in 1548 did Beza openly reject Roman Catholicism and take up the new evangelical cause. He rejoined his old friend Calvin in Geneva, a haven for francophone evangelical refugees. Beza became a professor of Greek in nearby Lausanne until, in 1558, conflicts over the proper form of church government led to the expulsion of Calvin’s sympathizers by those who favored the magisterial model of Lausanne’s powerful ally, Bern. Calvin enlisted Beza as a founding professor at Geneva’s fledgling academy. Beza flourished as a teacher, author, and church statesman. In 1561 he joined Peter Martyr Vermigli as an evangelical delegate at a colloquy in Poissy, France, where the Catholic queen mother, Catherine de Medici, had sought to reinforce religious consensus. He travelled tirelessly throughout Europe in efforts to secure protection for a beleaguered evangelical church of France and in order to attend meetings intended to heal rifts within the broader Protestant front. Beza was also capable of strong polemical defenses of his view of orthodox theology. Many scholars today generally point to Beza, rather than to Calvin, as the instigator of some of the harder edges of Calvinist theology, with particular reference to predestination. One must take care, however, not to exaggerate this supposed conceptual divergence; Calvin himself always cherished unusually close friendship with Beza, and it was Calvin himself who selected Beza to succeed him as head of the Genevan academy and as moderator of the Genevan pastorate. Beyond the contention of hyper-Calvinism, scholars continue to point to Beza’s influential legacy in the form of having served as the principal contributor to the vernacular Genevan Psalter and for having completed painstaking research in Greek manuscripts in an effort to improve upon the New Testament editions (and Latin translations) produced decades earlier by Erasmus. Backus, The Reformed Roots of the English New Testament: The Influence of Theodore Beza on the English New Testament, 1980; Mallinson, Faith, Reason, and Revelation in Theodore Beza, 1519 – 1605, 2003; Manetsch, Theodore Beza and the Quest for Peace in France, 1562 – 1598, 2000; Maruyama, The Ecclesiology of Theodore Beza: The Reform of the True Church, 1978. J.W. 373

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 373

12/19/2000 10:09:04 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Biel, Gabriel (c. 1410–1495) A prominent scholastic theologian, Biel is known both for his own works and for his influence on Martin Luther. Biel was the cathedral preacher in Mainz and provost of various houses of the Brothers of the Common Life before helping to found the University of Tübingen, where he taught theology until his retirement. His thought followed the nominalism of Occam, which emphasized free will and humanity’s inherent moral capabilities. His most important theological work, Epitome et collectorium ex Occamo super libros quatuor sententiarum, sought to explicate Occam’s nominalism. Luther read both this work and Biel’s exposition of the canon of the mass, and he also studied under a student of Biel’s at Erfurt. From these sources Luther concluded that Biel’s emphasis on free will had fallen into the error of Pelagianism. Recent scholarship on Biel has emphasized his thorough knowledge of thirteenth century theology and his orthodoxy, thus illustrating the vibrancy of late medieval thought. Oberman, The Harvest of Medieval Theology: Gabriel Biel and Late Medieval Nominalism, 1963. A.M.J.

Bishop The office of bishop (Greek, episkopos) is a New Testament ministry in the church, devoted to oversight of the teaching and practice of local congregations. The orderly succession of bishops also served as a sign of continuity with Christ and the apostles. In the late Roman Empire, the bishops of Jerusalem, Antioch, Alexandria, Constantinople and Rome shared positions of preeminence; increasingly separated from its Greek counterparts by politics and language, the bishop of Rome’s authority continued to grow in the Latin West into the institution of the papacy. By the sixteenth century, many Christians were protesting papal supremacy, absentee bishops, the secular power of bishops, and the selling of church offices. The Council of Trent addressed many of these critiques of bishops in its decrees and reforms without lessening the power of the pope. Protestants, meanwhile, developed various church structures independent of the bishop of Rome: the Anglican Church retained a high view of the office of bishop and the apostolic succession led by the Archbishop of Canterbury; Reformed churches reorganized primarily around the offices of pastor and elders (presbyters) rather than bishops. Lutherans developed the office of superintendent for church oversight where Catholic bishops still held local jurisdiction, so that some Lutheran

374

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 374

12/19/2000 10:09:04 AM

A Reformation ABC

churches retained use of the title of bishop (as in Sweden and Denmark), while other regions did not. Erling and Stjerna, The Role of a Bishop: Changing Models for a Global Church, 2002; Wengert, Priesthood, Pastors, Bishops: Public Ministry for the Reformation & Today, 2008. M.J.L.

Book of Common Prayer The Book of Common Prayer refers to the official order of service in the Church of England. Archbishop Thomas Cranmer was the primary author of the first Book of Common Prayer, issued in 1549. The 1549 prayer book was tentatively Protestant. It replaced Latin with English as the language of services, simplified services, and forbade the elevation of the host. Yet it kept the general format of the mass and did not explicitly deny transubstantiation. In 1552, Parliament issued a more thoroughly Reformed prayer book that eliminated the word “mass” altogether, unambiguously denied transubstantiation, and endorsed a spiritualist interpretation of the Eucharist consistent with the understanding of Christ’s presence in the sacrament as taught by Calvin. When Mary Tudor came to power in 1553, she rejected the Book of Common Prayer and restored the Roman Catholic Latin mass. After Elizabeth’s accession, Parliament issued another Book of Common Prayer in 1559. This new prayer book was quite similar to that of 1552, but it allowed for a more ambiguous understanding of Christ’s presence in the Eucharist and ordered the use of certain ornaments and vestments according to the 1549 prayer book. Puritans (those who desired further reformation of the English Church) rejected these vestments as well as other practices prescribed by the 1559 prayer book like kneeling at communion, for Puritans considered them remnants of Roman Catholicism. Despite Puritan opposition, the 1559 Book of Common Prayer remained the official mandated liturgy of the Church of England until Puritans triumphed during the English Civil War. After the Restoration, a new, heavily ceremonial Book of Common Prayer was imposed on the Church of England in 1662. The Book of Common Prayer, with its mixture of Protestant language and ceremonies derived from Roman Catholicism, is often considered the heart of Anglicanism. Clay, ed., Liturgies and Occasional Forms of Prayer Set Forth in the Reign of Queen Elizabeth, 1847; Hefling and Shattuck, eds, The Oxford Guide to the Book of Common Prayer: A Worldwide Survey, 2006; Ketley, ed., The Two Liturgies, A.D. 1549, and A.D. 1552: with Other Documents Set Forth by Authority in the Reign of King Edward VI, 1844. J.G.

375

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 375

12/19/2000 10:09:04 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Book of Concord The Book of Concord contains the confessional writings of the Evangelical Lutheran Church. It was first published in 1580 in celebration of the 50th anniversary of the presentation of the Augsburg Confession; it contains the three ecumenical creeds (Nicea, Apostles’, and Athanasian), the Augsburg Confession and its Apology, the Smalcald Articles with a Treatise on the Power and Primacy of the Pope, Luther’s Small and Large Catechisms, and the Formula of Concord. Its publication also aimed at uniting some Reformed and Lutheran communities, especially the Rhenish Palatinate. The Augsburg Confession had set a legal and theological precedent for Lutherans to turn to confessional writings in times of controversy, when Emperor Charles V himself had asked his Protestant lands to present their statement of their faith to him in 1530. In 1555 the Augsburg Confession became the doctrinal standard for the newly legalized Lutheran faith within the Holy Roman Empire; no similar provision was made for Reformed areas. Some Reformed areas like the Palatinate had turned to Melanchthon’s more Reformed-friendly “Altered” Augsburg Confession of 1540 for legal shelter. The Book of Concord’s preface spoke to Reformed communities by saying that its publication did not infer rejection or condemnation of other “profitable writings” (especially the Altered Augsburg Confession). In addition to brooking agreement with some Reformed lands, the Book of Concord also included the 1577 Formula of Concord to settle many of the intra-Lutheran disputes that had arisen since Luther’s death. While some communities did not adopt the Book of Concord, it did bring many Protestant territories into new doctrinal agreement. The authority of these confessional documents is that of a norma normata, that is, doctrinal norms which are themselves ruled by scripture and the creeds. The Book of Concord, Kolb and Wengert, 2000; Dingel, “The Preface of The Book of Concord as a Reflection of Sixteenth-Century Confessional Development,” in Lutheran Quarterly XV, 4 (2001), 373–95; Gassmann and Hendrix, Fortress Introduction to the Lutheran Confessions, 1999. M.J.L.

Book of Homilies Issued by Archbishop Thomas Cranmer in July of 1547, the Book of Homilies served to remedy the shortage of qualified preachers in the Church of England. Every parish was to acquire a copy. This collection of twelve homilies was arranged in a logical sequence of two pairs of six sermons beginning with matters of faith and progressing to works. This sequence intended to demonstrate how life should be lived. Cranmer himself has been credited 376

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 376

12/19/2000 10:09:04 AM

A Reformation ABC

with writing the third, fourth, and fifth homilies—on salvation, faith, and good works respectively. The “Homily of Salvation” avers the evangelical position on justification. God alone justifies. Justification “is of the office of God only, and is not a thing which we render unto him . . .” The “Homily of Faith” describes true, justifying faith as showing itself by good works. The full title of the fifth homily, the “Homily of Good Works Annexed unto Faith,” stresses the causal relationship between the two. It insists that good works cannot exist apart from faith. In emphasizing the priority of faith, it appeals to the example of the thief on the cross. This homily then goes on to distinguish good works resulting from faith from counterfeit good works which are those stemming from disobedience, one of which is the worship of images. The homily classifies among these counterfeit good works monasticism and other acts of medieval devotion. Other homilies addressed subjects as prayer, repentance, and idleness. A second Book of Homilies was issued during the reign of Elizabeth I consisting of 21 sermons, one of which concerns rebellion. The complete list of these homilies is given in Article #35 of the Articles of Religion (1571). MacCulloch, Thomas Cranmer, 1996; Meyer, ed., Cranmer’s Selected Writings, 1961. A.G.

Brenz, Johannes 1499–1570 Born near Stuttgart on June 29, 1499, Johannes Brenz studied at Heidelberg and taught there after earning his degree. Like Bucer and Oecolampadius, Brenz was present at the 1518 Heidelberg Disputation where Luther described the theology of the cross. From that time, Brenz was a leader in the Reformation, especially in southern Germany. In 1522 he took a call to be pastor in Schwäbisch Hall. During that pastorate of over 20 years, Brenz wrote an influential catechism, took part in the controversies against Zwingli’s understanding of the Lord’s Supper, assisted Melanchthon at the 1530 Diet of Augsburg, and helped write church orders for cities and territories across southern Germany. In the 1530s, Brenz advised Duke Ulrich of Württemberg on religious matters and helped reform the University of Tübingen. He would later serve as an advisor to Ulrich’s son, Duke Christopher, and as a pastor in Stuttgart. Before that, however, Brenz had to flee his home and family as a result of Württemberg’s defeat in the 1547 Smalcaldic War. Chased by imperial troops, he resided for a time in Basel; in January 1549, he learned of his wife’s death while in exile in Mömpelgard. As a controversialist, Brenz combined strict adherence to Luther’s teachings with a willingness to mediate when mutual understanding seemed possible. Although relatively neutral in the Osiandrian controversy, he took a strong Lutheran stand in ongoing 377

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 377

12/19/2000 10:09:04 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

disagreements about the Lord’s Supper. Brenz used the notion of Christ’s ubiquity after his incarnation to explain Christ’s physical presence in Holy Communion. He attended the Council of Trent in 1552 with the intent of presenting the Württemberg Confession but was not allowed to read it. His 1559 “Large Württemberg Church Order” remains the organizational basis for the Evangelical Church in Württemberg. Brenz, Godly Magistrates and Church Order: Johannes Brenz and the Establishment of the Lutheran Territorial Church in Germany, 1524–1559, 2001; Steinmetz, “Johannes Brenz,” in Reformers in the Wings, 2001. M.J.L.

Bucer, Martin (1491–1551) Bucer was Born in the small German town of Schlettstadt (or, Sélestat), in the region of Alsace known for its league of imperial cities (the so-called Decapolis). Schlettstadt gained further notoriety for its Latin school that formed many of Europe’s cosmopolitan elites. Bucer attended this school, and, in 1507, Bucer’s grandfather led him into the newly reformed Dominican order. An emphasis on learning no doubt appealed to Bucer and the prospect of open doors to clerical advancement no doubt appealed to the impoverished Bucer clan. In 1518 Bucer was a young Dominican studying abroad in Heidelberg. There he first encountered and sympathized with Martin Luther. Bucer seems to have been motivated by a humanist love of learning and piety and by a Germanic suspicion of church bureaucracy based in Rome. He married a former nun in the summer of 1522, and in a time of unsettled movement, he soon arrived in the large German city of Strasbourg. The city’s printing presses had already consolidated Strasbourg’s position as a crossroads of intellectual contributions, including those of the evangelically leaning humanists. Bucer thus began his career, geographically and conceptually, at a sort of meeting point. He continued as a leader in the south German Reformation until Emperor Charles V defeated the Protestant forces of the Schmalkald Alliance. Conditions that obtained in Strasbourg and other evangelical domains following that defeat led to Bucer’s emigration to England in 1548, where he served the remaining 3 years of his life as an influential professor at Cambridge University. Bucer fostered excellence in schools and halls of government as much as he did in churches. In addition, and to a degree quite rare among leaders in his era, Bucer promoted a degree of Christian unity that might persist despite points of disagreement. His noble intentions notwithstanding, Bucer often incurred the odium of appearing meddlesome when he interjected himself into ongoing

378

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 378

12/19/2000 10:09:04 AM

A Reformation ABC

negotiations. Such was particularly the case amidst the personal and political complications that stood between Wittenberg to the north and Zurich to the south. Nevertheless, history bears out Bucer’s inextricable significance within a wide nexus of Reformation luminaries, Luther, Zwingli, Calvin, Bullinger, and Cranmer among them. Greschat, Martin Bucer: A Reformer and His Times, 2004; Wright, ed., Martin Bucer: Reforming Church and Community 1994. J.W.

Bullinger, Heinrich (1504–75) Bullinger was Born in the Swiss village of Bremgarten. His father, though a priest, appears to have enjoyed popular respect as a family man and fellowship with prominent men of Zurich. Bullinger was enrolled in the local Latin school, and soon sent off to pursue education in the northern German city of Emmerich. After contemplating becoming a Carthusian monk, Bullinger matriculated into the University of Cologne, where he received his Master of Arts degree in 1522. Love of learning was reinforced by influences from the rigorous piety of the Brethren of the Common Life and by humanist stirrings. In 1523, Bullinger accepted a teaching position at a Cistercian monastery in Kappel, where the abbot permitted Bullinger to avoid monastic vows while serving as a lay instructor in Latin and in vernacular exegesis. That same year Bullinger found confirmation for his own early evangelical opinions and further inspiration in Huldrych Zwingli’s defense of reformation. Bullinger attended the synod of Bern in 1528. There he formed a positive relationship among diverse evangelical leaders that would stand him in good stead for decades to come. Also in 1528, Bullinger formally joined the rolls of pastors loyal to the Reformed authorities of Zurich. Shocking military debacle near Kappel in late 1531 left the state of Swiss evangelicalism precarious indeed. Bullinger accepted an invitation by Zurich city officials to succeed the fallen Zwingli. He acted in that capacity from December 1531 until his death in 1575. Bullinger became probably the most respected patriarch of Reformed Christianity in the era, consulted by leaders of church and state throughout the Swiss Confederation and Europe at large. Although John Calvin would prove more influential in future generations, it is instructive that, at the time of composing documents such as the Zurich Consensus of 1549 (published in 1551), Calvin made several trips to seek counsel with Bullinger in Zurich while the reverse is not true. That document laid the foundation for a fruitful cooperation between potentially divergent evangelical parties (roughly, “Zwinglian” and “Calvinist”). In addition, Bullinger’s Second Helvetic

379

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 379

12/19/2000 10:09:04 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Confession (1566) may well be credited as one of the most widely accepted confessional expressions of Reformed Christianity even to this day. Biel, Doorkeepers at the House of Righteousness: Heinrich Bullinger and the Zurich Clergy 1535 – 1575, 1991; Campi and Gordon, eds, Architect of Reformation: An Introduction to Heinrich Bullinger, 1504 – 1575, 2004; Campi and Opitz, eds, Heinrich Bullinger: Life—Thought—Influence, 2007. J.W.

Cajetan, Thomas (1469–1534) Born in the Italian region of Gaeta (hence his more familiar name, Cajetan), Tommaso de Vio was an important and influential cardinal in the Catholic Church during the first half of the sixteenth century. After entering a Dominican monastery, Cajetan distinguished himself as an able scholar and earned his doctorate in theology from the University of Padua. He was an ardent follower of Thomas Aquinas and is associated with the beginnings of Neothomism, a philosophical movement that is based on the writings of Thomas. Cajetan’s loyalty to Rome and aptitude for theology and ecclesiastical politics earned him a cardinal’s hat from Pope Leo X in 1517. From the perspective of Protestantism, Cajetan is most famous for his interrogation of a young Augustinian monk named Martin Luther in October of 1518 at the Diet of Augsburg in Germany. Whereas Cajetan was sent out as a legate of Rome expecting the unknown monk to submit to Catholic teaching, Luther surprised the cardinal by refusing to recant and instead intended to engage Cajetan into debate over the course of their three meetings in October. Therefore, Cajetan returned to Rome to assist in the formal drawing up of Luther’s excommunication from the Catholic Church. Aside from his association with Luther, Cajetan eventually went on to compose commentaries on most books of the Bible. These commentaries, written in unadorned and concise Latin, illustrate the emergence of the so-called critical era of biblical interpretation, which, though orthodox and conversant with the ecclesiastical and exegetical tradition, re-surfaced age-old questions about the biblical text such as authorship and canonicity of certain texts like Hebrews and James. Wicks, Cajetan Responds: A Reader in Reformation Controversy, 1978. D.C.

Calling To have a calling or vocation is to have a spiritual sense about one’s work. From the Middle Ages into the present, having a “call” has further indicated 380

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 380

12/19/2000 10:09:04 AM

A Reformation ABC

one’s desire and skills to serve in the church, usually in a monastic or priestly role. However, with the 1520 tract To the Christian Nobility of the German Nation, Martin Luther dismissed the notion that there are separate spiritual estates (clergy and lay) and asserted that all Christians belong to one spiritual office through their baptism, which he called “the priesthood of all the baptized.” At the same time, Luther and his coworkers valued and retained the office of ministry and other church vocations as important means for communicating the divine Gospel on earth. In Luther’s thought, ecclesiastical vocations remain valuable service to the church and community, even though such service happens within the secular order and is not somehow spiritually above it. Conversely, this teaching about vocation brought a new positive emphasis on secular work as also participating in God’s will that humans live peacefully and harmoniously in the world. Bennethum, Listen! God Is Calling!: Luther Speaks of Vocation, Faith, and Work, 2003; Luther, “To the Christian Nobility of the German Nation,” in LW 44: 115–216. M.J.L.

Calvin, John (1509–64) Protestant Reformer of Geneva and first to systematize Protestant thought. Born in France and educated first at Paris and then at Orleans and Bourges, where he studied law, Calvin intended to lead a quite life where he could write and study independently of other pursuits. On his way to Strasbourg, where the famous reformer Martin Bucer lived, Calvin was forced to detour through Geneva. While in Geneva, the reformer William Farel pleaded with Calvin to stay there to help him reform the city. Calvin reluctantly stayed in Geneva for a couple of years before being forced to leave the city as a result of theological and political reasons. Calvin spent the next 3 years in Strasbourg (1538–1541) as a pastor of French refugees. Eventually, however, Geneva asked Calvin to return to the pastorate there, where he spent the rest of his life. Aside from his pastoral responsibilities in Geneva, and founding the Genevan Academy, which schooled countless Protestant thinkers (especially those of the Marian exile), Calvin is best known as a biblical scholar and theologian. His writings can perhaps be classified into three categories: sermons, which he preached on a weekly basis on both the Old and New Testaments; biblical commentaries, which he wrote on most books of the Bible; and theological and ecclesiastical writings, consisting most notably of his Institutes of the Christian Religion. This book went through several changes and editions over the course of Calvin’s career. When it was originally published in 1536, Calvin wrote it as a catechism or introduction of the Christian faith; over time, however, it evolved into a massive compendium of theological 381

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 381

12/19/2000 10:09:04 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

doctrine that touched on all matters theological. The ultimate edition of the volume, which appeared in 1559, contained four books (modeled, in part, on the Apostles’ Creed: Father, Son, Spirit, and Church) and eighty chapters. In the book, Calvin discusses his well-known views on the knowledge of God and of humanity; the Trinity; the catholicity of the Christian faith; the role of the Spirit in the believer’s life and in the interpretation of Scripture; justification by faith alone and not by works; predestination; and church polity. Calvin’s exposition of these doctrines went on to have a widespread and lasting influence on subsequent interpreters, both on the Continent and in England. In the latter area, in fact, Calvin’s works (most notably his biblical commentaries and his Institutes) played a significant role in the religious formation of Elizabethan England, and are readably accessible in a variety of contemporary translations and editions. For an introduction to Calvin’s Institutes, see Hall and Lillback, eds, Theological Guide to Calvin’s Institutes, 2001; Gordon, Calvin, 2010; and Muller, The Unaccommodated Calvin, 2001. D.C.

Cambridge, University of One of the most prestigious academic institutions of the world, and the second-oldest university in England after Oxford. The school began to emerge in the early part of the thirteenth century, when universities all across Europe also began appearing. The school is composed of multiple colleges, which are only loosely affiliated with each other. Together with Oxford, Cambridge dominated the intellectual (and thereby political and religious) culture of England. During the medieval and early modern period, the heart of the curriculum at Cambridge (and Oxford) was the undergraduate curriculum, leading to the first general degree, the Bachelor of Arts, which traditionally consisted of the trivium (grammar, logic, and rhetoric) and, upon further study such as the Master of Arts, the quadrivium (arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy). After earning these foundational degrees, interested, able, and well-financed students could then enter into a specialized degree in theology. This was the preferred method of many important English theologians during the Reformation. In fact, it was at the Whitehouse Tavern in the 1520s at Cambridge where students such as Robert Barnes, Thomas Bilney, John Frith, and Hugh Latimer—early advocates of the English Reformation who were martyred for their beliefs—met to discuss Martin Luther’s theology and eventually became known as “Little Germany.” From the perspective of the Protestant Reformation, Cambridge is also famous for its faculty members in theology. After a distinguished career on the Continent, for example, 382

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 382

12/19/2000 10:09:04 AM

A Reformation ABC

the famous Strasbourg reformer Martin Bucer became the Regius Professor of Divinity at Cambridge in 1549 until his untimely death 2 years later. Porter, Reformation and Reaction in Tudor Cambridge, 1983. D.C.

Canon Law The body of church rules, regulations, and laws that governs ecclesiastical structures and organization, questions of doctrine and faith, and morality and discipline. The corpus of canon law grew very slowly, but by the sixteenth century was largely codified. It contains exegesis drawn from Scripture, pronouncements from church councils, and papal declarations and decretals. In the twelfth century, Gratian, a University of Bologna professor, compiled what might be called a textbook on canon law called the Decretum. This became the standard edition of canon law and was augmented over time with additional proclamations and decretals. When Luther burned a copy of the canon law, it was an edition of the Decretum. Friedberg, Corpus Iuris Canonici, 1959; Brundage, Medieval Canon Law, 1995.

Capito, Wolfgang (1478–1541) Thought to have been born in 1478 in the city of Hagenau, Capito became one of the key links between sixteenth-century humanism and the Reformation. Educated at the Latin school of Pforzheim and also at Freiburg and Basel, Capito obtained three doctoral degrees: theology, canon law, and civil law. In 1515 Capito accepted a call as both professor and cathedral minister for Basel. During his stay in Basel, Capito would come to be influenced by and personally close to Desiderius Erasmus, the unofficial father of modern humanism. It was also during this time that Capito would start to be captivated by the writings of Martin Luther; even going so far as to translate Luther’s early works into Latin. (Much to the consternation of Erasmus.) By 1523, Capito would come to know Martin Luther, publicly announce his support of the reform movement, and speak against his former mentor, Erasmus, for his criticisms of the Lutheran campaign. Later years would see Capito work, with relatively unsuccessful results, to persuade the cities of Zurich and Basel to adopt the Augsburg Confession. Kittelson, Wolfgang Capito: From Humanist to Reformer, 1975; Stierle, Capito als Humanist, 1974. A.L.W. 383

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 383

12/19/2000 10:09:05 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Catechism Early Christians developed a catechumenate (Greek, “sounding in the ear”) for instruction of those entering the faith. To aid this process, collections of basic doctrine were written, which in the Middle Ages usually revolved around the Apostles’ Creed, the Ten Commandments, the Lord’s Prayer; catechisms might also include instruction about the sacraments and other prayers of the church. They often followed a question-and-answer format. Already before the Reformation, preachers devoted parts of the year, especially Lent, to catechetical sermons. In the 1520s, reformers saw the need for basic doctrinal instruction and turned to catechisms for that purpose. While other catechisms were published before Luther’s Large and Small Catechisms in 1529, Luther’s quickly became standard and were included in the 1580 collection of Lutheran confessional writings, the Book of Concord. Influential Reformed catechisms from the sixteenth century are Calvin’s Geneva Catechisms and the Heidelberg Catechism. As with Luther’s, such catechisms served not only pedagogical but confessional and doctrinal purposes. The Anglican Book of Common Prayer combines these many aspects by including in it a catechism for instruction and examination of confirmands, for use in the home, and as a preaching aid for pastors. Arand, That I May Be His Own: An Overview of Luther’s Catechisms, 2000; Noll, Confessions and Catechisms of the Reformation, 1991. M.J.L.

Celibacy In Western Christianity, celibacy is the commitment to abstain from sexual relationships, including marriage. While clerical celibacy—celibacy for priests, monks and nuns—had already been a long-standing custom of the church, it was not until the First Lateran Council (1123) that clerical marriage was explicitly prohibited almost without exception in the Latin West; Eastern Orthodox Christians continue to allow already-married men to become priests. In the sixteenth century, opposition to clerical celibacy arose for various reasons. First, sexual misconduct by priests and monks had become scandalous and contributed to public distrust of the church. As an alternative, reformers advocated marital chastity for pastors (faithfulness within marriage) based on passages like 1 Corinthians 9:5, 1 Timothy 3:2–4, and Hebrews 13:4. Second, because so many monks and nuns of the time had entered monastic life involuntarily as children, the Reformers considered their vows to be unjust and non-binding. Third, with the doctrine of justification by faith alone, Luther negated the argument that celibacy was more spiritually meritorious or God-pleasing

384

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 384

12/19/2000 10:09:05 AM

A Reformation ABC

than marriage. Reforming priests like Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt, Justus Jonas, and Ulrich Zwingli all married in 1522; Luther married in 1525. Although they continued to affirm the goodness of celibacy as taught in the New Testament, in practice, clerical celibacy became the exception among Protestants. The Council of Trent reaffirmed the traditional Roman Catholic teaching of celibacy for priests, monks, and nuns. Luther, “The Estate of Marriage,” in LW 45: 11–49; Schillebeeckx, Celibacy, 1968. M.J.L.

Charles V (1500–58 r. 1519) Holy Roman Emperor (1519–56) and King of Spain (1516–56), Charles V worked to maintain the Roman Catholic faith and protect his vast empire. His reign was marked by struggle on three fronts. First, the French kings Francis I and Henry II battled with Charles over the Italian peninsula in the Habsburg-Valois Wars (1521–59). The constant threat of France was coupled with the rapid advance of the Ottoman Empire under the reign of Süleyman I. In fact, the French and Turks allied together against the Habsburgs throughout much of Charles’s reign. In hopes of fending off the Turkish conquest in the East, Charles was forced to maintain peace with the Protestant princes of Germany in order to support the defense of Hungary. This prevented Charles from addressing the rise of the Protestant Reformation in Germany with any consistency. For example, in 1521, shortly after issuing the Edict of Worms, Charles’s presence was demanded in Spain and his attention would not be permitted to return to Germany for nearly a decade. Not until Charles had won peace with France in 1544 was he able to return his attention to Holy Roman Empire, wherein the Protestant princes were now allied in the Schmalkaldic League. Charles waged war against the League in 1546, effectively dissolving the League with his victory at the Battle of Mühlberg and imprisonment of Elector John Frederick of Saxony and Philip of Hesse in 1547. His victory was short lived, however. Four years later, the Ottoman Turks advanced an offensive, the Protestant princes formed another alliance, and the Council of Trent dissolved. In the end, Charles’s dream of a united, Catholic empire would not be fulfilled, as the Truce of Passau (1552) and Peace of Augsburg (1555) would produce a religiously divided empire. Brandi, The Emperor Charles V: The Growth and Destiny of a Man and of a Worldempire, 1980; Tracy, Emperor Charles V, 2002. J.H.H.

385

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 385

12/19/2000 10:09:05 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Chemnitz, Martin (1522–86) Often called the “Second Martin,” he was a second-generation Lutheran reformer. A theological centrist, he played an important role in healing some of the inter-Lutheran disputes that arose following Luther’s death in 1546. In 1577, he played an essential role in establishing broad support for the Formula of Concord and the Book of Concord. Kolb, “Martin Chemnitz,” in The Reformation Theologians, ed. Lindberg, 2002.

Cochlaeus, Johannes (1479–1552) Cochlaeus was a humanist, a Catholic Priest, and a theological opponent of Martin Luther. He attended the Diet of Augsburg in 1530 as chaplain to Duke George of Saxony, also an opponent of Luther’s. He is most famous for the 1529 tract, Septiceps Lutherus (The Seven-Headed Luther) which divides Luther’s life and thought into seven chapters each represented by a monstrous head and which highlight what Cochlaeus believed to be Luther’s heresies. Historically more important, however, is his 1548 extensive biography of Luther, Commentaria de actis et scriptus M. Lutheri (Commentary on the Life and Writings of Luther). This is a deeply polemic biography but also demonstrates Cochlaeus’ close reading of Luther. Bagchi, Luther’s Earliest Opponents 1991; Keen, Luther’s Lives, 2002.

Colet, John (1467–1519) An important English scholar during the Renaissance, Colet was educated at Oxford and also spent time on the Continent, where he was exposed to humanism and became close friends with Erasmus. After returning to England, Colet held several ecclesiastical offices and began lecturing on Paul’s letters, which at that time was innovative, since it dealt primarily with the literary and rhetorical features of the biblical text rather than the ecclesial tradition. This manner of teaching puts Colet squarely in line with humanism, with its emphasis on classical language (classical Latin and Greek), literature and rhetoric, morality, and its low regard for scholasticism. Although Colet was himself Catholic (having died before Protestantism fully emerged), he was, at heart, a Catholic reformer who wanted to reorganize the medieval curriculum and eliminate what he regarded as unnecessary features of the clerical profession such as auricular confession and clerical celibacy. For these reasons, Colet, along with his good friend Erasmus, whom he influenced considerably in terms of Erasmus eventually becoming 386

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 386

12/19/2000 10:09:05 AM

A Reformation ABC

a biblical commentator and scholar, shares many characteristics with the first Protestant Reformers. Gleason, John Colet, 1989; O’Kelly and Jarrott, eds, John Colet’s Commentary on First Corinthians, 1985. D.C.

Colloquies From the Latin for “to speak with,” a colloquy is a conference held to discuss a controversial theological topic. Charles V sponsored a series of colloquies between Roman Catholic and Lutheran theologians from 1530 – 1557 that sought to heal the theological divisions in the empire. Charles held the Imperial Diet of Augsburg in 1530, where Lutheran theologians, led by Phillip Melanchthon, presented the Augsburg Confession. The confession was a defense of Lutheranism against the charge of heresy. At the end, Lutherans were not cleared of the charge, but the emperor called another colloquy at Hagenau and Worms in 1540/41, in order to avert civil war with the Lutheran Smalkaldic League. The Protestants, including Martin Bucer and Calvin, all agreed to the Variata version of the Augsburg Confession, and the two sides reached agreement on original sin. The Regensburg Colloquy met in 1541 to discuss justification based upon the Regensburg Book co-written by Bucer and the Catholic Johannes Gropper. The Regensburg Agreement, Article 5, affirmed that righteousness is imputed by faith and imparted by the Holy Spirit. Rome did not approve the conciliation, and Luther rejected it as a patchwork. The next colloquy, Regensburg 1546, began with the Augsburg Confession, but Gropper did not participate and Bucer was skeptical. By the time the emperor arrived the Protestants had returned home. Worms 1557 also recognized the Augsburg Confession, but the Gnesio-Lutheran party demanded that the errors of the Variata version be condemned. The Phillipists, led by Melanchthon, opposed this action, which caused tensions with the Catholics, who insisted on the 1530 version. The Council of Trent had begun meeting in 1545, and its condemnations of Lutheran doctrine made it difficult to for the Lutherans to believe in unity. The Gnesio-Lutherans abandoned the colloquy after the Phillipists sought to exclude their anathemas of the Variata. When the Catholics insisted on readmitting the Gnesio-Lutherans, the Phillipists balked, and the colloquy disbanded. Though unity couldn’t be achieved, the colloquies moved Catholics to accept the Augsburg Confession as non-heretical. Jedin, A History of the Council of Trent, 2 vols, 1961, 1: 245–67, 372–91; Ziegler, Great Debates of the Reformation, 1969. M.H. 387

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 387

12/19/2000 10:09:05 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Communion “Communion” often refers to the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, Holy Communion. More generally in Christianity, communion describes the right relationships to God and the world brought by the Holy Spirit through faith in Christ and participation in the church. The Trinity itself models communion within God. Christians enjoy union with God by hearing God’s Word, receiving the sacraments, having sins forgiven, and through prayer. Christians have communion with each other through worship, participation in the sacraments, and as communities of mutual accountability, faith and support. The Apostles’ Creed includes “the communion of saints” as an article of faith and as a description of the church across time and space. As an antithesis of communion, the New Testament practice of “excommunication” was present in the Reformation, although high profile excommunications—like those of Martin Luther and King Henry VIII—did little to discourage reform movements already underway. While Reformed and Lutheran Protestants retained excommunication as a tool for order and discipline in the church, the Anabaptists placed a very high value on excommunication for the sake of personal morality and communal harmony. Regardless of denomination, communion with God, one’s religious community, and the wider world remains a central goal of Christian faith and practice. See, Wandel, Eucharist, 2005. M.J.L.

Company of Pastors The formal title of the organization that supervised the churches of Geneva, its surrounding areas, and its missionary activities into France. Organized according to John Calvin’s 1541 Ecclesiastical Ordinances, the Company met weekly to discuss the religious and theological life of Geneva, approve pastoral candidates, and support the work of individual pastors. The Company was Calvin’s alternative to a bishop. Calvin, “Ecclesiastical Ordinances,” in John Calvin’s Theological Treatises 1954; Kingdon, “The Genevan Company of Pastors,” in Pacific Theological Review 18 (1985): 43–55.

Conciliarism A theory of church government which asserted the superiority of a general council of the church to the pope. Moreover, if necessary, this general council 388

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 388

12/19/2000 10:09:05 AM

A Reformation ABC

may depose the pope. Originating in the writings of canonists during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries who sought to limit papal power, it had more radical advocates like Marsilius of Padua, who altogether rejected the divine origin of the papacy, and William of Ockham, who argued that only the universal church as a whole was protected from error. This theory inspired the Conciliar Movement in the fifteenth century, which sought to heal the Great Schism and reform the church by means of a general council. These efforts culminated in the convoking of the Council of Constance (1414–18), which issued the decree Sacrosancta on April 15, 1415, declaring, “that it is lawfully assembled in the Holy Spirit, and that it constitutes a General Council representing the Catholic Church, and that therefore it has its authority immediately from Christ; and that all men, of every rank and condition, including the pope himself, are bound to obey it in matters concerning the Faith, the abolition of the schism, and the reformation of the Church of God in its head and members.” In addition to deposing three rival popes and electing Martin V as the legitimate pope, the Council further called for regular meetings of general councils. However, the continuing reassertion by the papacy of its authority and independence as well as quarrels among council delegates finally resulted in the dissolution of the Council of Basle in 1449. In 1460 Pope Pius II condemned appeal from the pope to a general council in his bull Execrabalis. Pope Julius II countered a conciliarist attempt at reform when he summoned the Fifth Lateran Council (1512–17). Burns and Izbicki, eds, Conciliarism and Papalism, 1997; Tierney, Foundations of the Conciliarist Theory: The Contribution of the Medieval Canonists from Gratian to the Great Schism, 1955. A.G.

Confessionalization The term “confessionalization” refers to a period that emerged in Reformation Europe and ended roughly with the ascendancy of Enlightenment by the mid 1600s. Polities of Roman Catholic, Lutheran, or Reformed commitments took largely parallel (rather than sequential) paths that led to new relationships between their respective churches and civil governments. Populations were more effectively homogenized internally and demarcated over against populations on the other side of borders. Wolfgang Reinhard and Heinz Schilling famously sketched this historiographical category while elaborating on somewhat earlier works; Ernst Walter Zeeden had focused on the more explicitly religious formation of confessional identities, and Gerhard Oestreich had highlighted the social dimension of coordinated discipline. Confessionalization brings to bear both intellectual and social history, and it aids analysis of the 389

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 389

12/19/2000 10:09:05 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

intertwined threads of civil and religious experience in order to represent the changing mentalities of early modern Europe. Recent critical evaluations of the concept have warned against conflating confessionalization with terms such as “Second Reformation” that would involve errant assumptions of a discrete supersession of Reformation proper rather than an organic emergence from within. Confessionalization also falls under heavy criticism in instances where some of its proponents have focused on the early modern state to the exclusion of other political realities or possible outcomes and to the neglect of the complex interrelationship among ecclesiastical and governmental institutions in the period. Schilling, “Confessional Europe,” in Handbook of European History, 1400 – 1600: Late Middle Ages, Renaissance and Reformation, ed. Brady, Oberman, and Tracy, 1995; Headley, et al., Confessionalization in Europe, 1555 – 1700. Essays in Honor and Memory of Bodo Nischan, 2004. J.W.

Consistory of Geneva Was established by John Calvin as a condition of his return to the pastorate of Geneva in 1541. Its role and function are delineated in his “Ecclesiastical Ordinances.” It functioned as both a moral and theological court of admonishment and correction; though it had no civil powers of punishment it could refer persons to the civil magistrates. Persons could be called before the Consistory for theological reasons, such as persistence in Roman Catholicism, moral lapses including sexual sins, and for public scandals including drunkenness or fighting. It was made up of the pastors of Geneva, a civil magistrate as presiding officer, and twelve elected lay elders of the church. Naphy, Calvin and the Consolidation of the Genevan Reformation, 1994.

Constance, Council of (1414–18) The Council of Constance came as a result of some of the most traumatic upheavals Western Christendom had ever experienced. In 1302 Pope Boniface VIII had formally proclaimed the doctrine that submission to the bishop of Rome, i.e., the pope, was absolutely necessary for salvation. European Christians found it awkward enough when the Roman papacy relocated to Avignon, right on the border with France. This so-called Babylonian captivity of the papacy lasted from 1309 to 1377. Pope Gregory XI moved back to the Vatican in 1377, but when he died in early 1378 the papacy still seemed greatly in flux. The cardinals proceeded to elect Pope Urban VI, but, citing enormous 390

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 390

12/19/2000 10:09:05 AM

A Reformation ABC

pressure from the crowds who had demanded an Italian pope, they suddenly claimed to invalidate their first election. These same cardinals then promoted yet another man, who, as Clement VII, took the papacy back to Avignon. At this point there were therefore two simultaneous popes, each of whom excommunicated the other. Leading scholars at universities promoted the idea of conciliarism, whereby an ecumenical council, rather than the papacy, should proclaim the most definitive voice of the church. To that end the Council of Pisa (1409) deposed both of the competing popes and elected Pope Alexander V, himself soon succeeded by Pope John XXIII. Instead of meekly retiring, however, the various popes persisted to excommunicate their rivals. Western Christendom now endured the trauma of three ostensibly duly elected, simultaneous popes. The German king and eventual emperor, Sigismund, called for an ecumenical council to be held at Constance in order to resolve the controversy. This council finally succeeded in ending the so-called Great Schism. A new, generally recognized pope took the name of Martin V in 1417. The Council of Constance’s historical significance goes beyond the matter of resolving papal contention. In a move that gave more expression to university and courtly voices within national deliberation, council votes were tallied by the innovative technique of national representation rather than by individual delegates. National interests were further highlighted by a new practice of proclaiming settlements called concordats that established particular rights and obligations between the church and individual nations. The council also acted to settle controversies surrounding the radical reformer, Jan Hus, a Czech priest who had questioned the legitimacy of certain church authorities. Hus was burned at the stake despite having been guaranteed safety by the German king. Finally, the Council of Constance proclaimed two momentous decisions of church order. Haec sancta codified a conciliar theory that located highest jurisdiction in the ecumenical council even over that of the pope; and the decree entitled Frequens mandated the convening of ecumenical councils at regular intervals from henceforth in perpetuity. Soon enough, however, councils encountered their own areas of dubious legitimacy, and popes successfully reasserted claims to supreme headship over a weary Western Christendom. Loomis, The Council of Constance: The Unification of the Church, 1961; Stump, The Reforms of the Council of Constance, 1414–1418, 1994. J.W.

Consubstantiation In debates about the Lord’s Supper, “consubstantiation” became a term that the Reformed side used to describe the Lutheran view of the sacrament. Having objected more to the Aristotelian logic used in the doctrine of 391

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 391

12/19/2000 10:09:05 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

transubstantiation than the effect of that teaching (Christ’s real presence), the Lutherans denied teaching consubstantiation for similar reasons. When “with the substance” is taken literally, the resulting image is that Christ must be competing for space with the substance of the bread in order to fit in such a small area. Rather than ponder how such a conjunction of Christ’s body and blood with the communion elements could be physically or metaphysically possible, the Lutherans preferred to affirm the mystery of the sacrament, speaking instead of a “real presence” or a “sacramental union.” Despite its flaws, consubstantiation comes close to describing important aspects of the Lutheran teaching about communion. The Augsburg Confession, for instance, describes Christ’s body and blood “under the form of bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper;” the Formula of Concord even says that Christ’s body and blood are distributed “with the bread and wine.” Consubstantiation also recognizes the Lutheran rejection of the purely spiritual eating and drinking taught by Zwingli. For Lutherans, the best explanation for the real presence in Holy Communion remained having faith in Christ’s Word, “Take, eat; this is my body” (Mt. 26.26). Wandel, Eucharist, 2005; Luther, “Confession Concerning Christ’s Supper,” in LW 37: 161–372. M.J.L.

Covenant The via moderna and a number of reformers made use of the biblical concept of covenant. Some theologians of the via moderna asserted that “God will not deny his grace to the one who does what is in him,” and the Catholic Church accused them of the Pelagian heresy. They answered by saying that good works are not meritorious in themselves, but because God has promised to accept them as such in his covenant (pactum). While Luther did not formally develop a covenant theology, this covenantal understanding influenced his doctrine of justification. Luther rejected the via moderna notion that God accepted human works, and taught that believers are counted righteous through faith in the covenant promise of God. Zwingli developed a covenant theology in response to the Anabaptists, who rejected infant baptism because it is not recorded in the New Testament. Zwingli argued that the old and new covenants do not differ in substance. The first promised salvation in the Messiah yet to come, and the second promises salvation based on his coming. Since the old covenant bestowed this promise on infants through circumcision, the new covenant assumes them in its sign of baptism. Calvin followed Zwingli’s approach, speaking of one covenant of grace with two historical administrations. The unity of the covenant explained the continuity between 392

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 392

12/19/2000 10:09:05 AM

A Reformation ABC

the Testaments, such as infant circumcision and infant baptism. The different historical administrations explained discontinuity, such as why the law of Moses was abolished in Christ. Calvin did not however, develop the concept of covenant into a separate topic in his Institutes. It was not until Casper Olevianus (1536–1587), William Ames (1576–1633), and Johannes Cocceius (1603–1669) that covenant would begin to be treated as a distinct theological subject. Hoekema, “The Covenant of Grace in Calvin’s Teaching,” Calvin Theological Journal 2 (1967): 133–61; Oberman “‘Iustitia Christi’ and ‘Iustitia Dei’: Luther and the Scholastic Doctrines of Justification,” Harvard Theological Review 59 (1966): 1–26. M.H.

Coverdale, Miles (1488–1569) English theologian and Bible scholar who is known especially for his work on the English Bible, Coverdale was educated at Cambridge and become a priest in the Augustinian order before joining the English Reformation. He later became the bishop of Exeter. Beginning in the late 1520s, Coverdale began translating the Bible into English. In 1535, he published the first complete English Bible in print, which became known as the “Coverdale Bible.” Unlike his contemporary William Tyndale, who used Greek and Hebrew manuscripts to translate the Bible into English, Coverdale used mostly Latin versions. A few years later, as English translations began to increase, Thomas Cromwell commissioned Coverdale to revise his translation into a more readable version. This version of the English Bible, known as the Great Bible, appeared first in 1539, with a preface by Cromwell in 1540, and soon became the version that Henry VIII had placed in churches all throughout England. After Cromwell’s execution in 1540 and especially after Edward VI’s death a decade later, Coverdale worked largely from the Continent. Pearson, ed., Writings and Translations of Myles Coverdale, 1894. D.C.

Cranach, Lucas the Elder (1472–1553) Painter, printmaker, illustrator, businessman, and sometimes mayor of Wittenberg. Elector Frederick the Wise called Cranach to Wittenberg as court painter in 1504, where he established a large workshop that included his sons, Lucas the Younger and Hans. Through his position in Wittenberg and his close friendship with Martin Luther, he became the most important artist of the 393

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 393

12/19/2000 10:09:06 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Reformation cause. Cranach collaborated with Wittenberg theologians to create woodcuts, book illustrations, and paintings that conveyed the new theology. His most famous image depicting the new theology is “Allegory of Law and Grace,” which vividly contrasted humanity’s damnation under the law with its salvation by grace. Cranach is also known for his many portraits of prominent reformers and Saxon electors and for his secular paintings, which included nudes, landscapes and hunting scenes. In Wittenberg, Cranach owned not only his workshop but also a printshop and a pharmacy, and he also traded in wine, spices, and paints. In 1519 he joined the Wittenberg city council, and in 1537 he became the mayor of Wittenberg. Friedländer and Rosenberg, The Paintings of Lucas Cranach, 1975; Moser, Lucas Cranach: His Life, His World and His Art, 2005. A.M.J.

Cranmer, Thomas (1489–1556) English Protestant Reformer and Bishop of Canterbury. Cranmer was trained as a humanist and received all his degrees (bachelor’s, master’s, and doctorate) from Cambridge. After a short time as fellow of Jesus College, Cambridge, Cranmer began participating in discussions with the king’s court about Henry VIII’s desire to annul his marriage with Catherine of Aragon. Although he was unsuccessful in procuring favor of this plan from those on the Continent during his extended visit there, he succeeded in finding favor in the eyes of the king, and was consecrated as Bishop of Canterbury in 1533. That same year, he officially annulled Henry’s marriage with Catherine and crowned Anne Boleyn as Queen of England, who shortly thereafter gave birth to Elizabeth, whom Cranmer baptized. Before long, Anne’s inability to produce a male child resulted in false charges being issued against her and, despite his support of the Boleyn family, Cranmer pronounced Anne’s marriage to the king as null and void. With the king’s support, Cranmer began revising the liturgy of the Church of England and produced the first version of the Book of Common Prayer (1549). As for his theological views, Cranmer disapproved of clerical celibacy (having been married on two separate occasions) and eventually, through his correspondence with Continental reformers like Martin Bucer, rejected the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist (transubstantiation). After Edward VI’s death in 1553, the tide was turning against reformers like Cranmer. Instead of fleeing for the Continent, as many English reformers did, he remained and was soon brought up on charges of treason by Mary I. Over the course of the next 3 years, Cranmer made a series of recantations and aligned himself firmly with the Catholic Church and the pope. Immediately before his execution, however, Cranmer unexpectedly denied all 394

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 394

12/19/2000 10:09:06 AM

A Reformation ABC

his recantations, called the pope the antichrist, and pledged to burn his hand first in the fire, since it was the one that signed his prior recantations. Duffield, The Works of Thomas Cranmer, 1965; and MacCulloch, Thomas Cranmer, 1998. D.C.

Cromwell, Thomas (1485–1540) English statesman and chief advisor of Henry VIII, who played a crucial role in the English Reformation. Cromwell was a lawyer and a Member of Parliament before gaining the confidence of Henry VIII and becoming his unofficial advisor. After taking a leading role in the dissolution of Catholic monasteries in England, Cromwell was instrumental in further distancing England from Rome and by advancing the Act of Supremacy (1534), which set the King of England as the supreme head of the English Church (rather than the pope). In 1535 Henry VIII appointed Cromwell as his viceregent, which gave him considerable power in matters political and ecclesiastical. Before long, due to his antagonism toward Anne Boleyn over political matters, Cromwell had her arrested on false charges of adultery and treason, for which she was executed in 1536. Boleyn had been outspoken of her criticism against Cromwell’s use of revenue and over matters of foreign policy, and had already taken action against him. Cromwell’s favor in the eyes of Henry, however, coupled with Anne’s inability to produce a male child were to Cromwell’s benefit. After Anne’s death, Henry married Jane Seymour, a marriage that lasted a little more than a year. After her death, which resulted in postnatal complications due to the birth of her son Edward VI, Cromwell encouraged Henry to marry very quickly. Cromwell’s encouragement for Henry to marry his fourth wife, Anne of Cleeves, as a political strategy was his eventual downfall, since the marriage proved incompatible and was almost immediately annulled. Cromwell’s opponents, which were many, had him arrested and Henry had him beheaded in 1540. Cromwell’s family line lived on, however, as his great great-great nephew, Oliver Cromwell, would become the Lord Protector of England a century later. Dickens, Thomas Cromwell and the English Reformation, 1959; and Schofield, The Rise and Fall of Thomas Cromwell, 2008. D.C.

Curia Literally court, during the Reformation era almost always refers to the Curia Romana or the Papal Court which was the executive and judicial administrative 395

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 395

12/19/2000 10:09:06 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

center of the Roman Catholic Church. Its most prominent members were the College of Cardinals. During the Reformation, members of the Curia were criticized for broad corruption and their lavish lifestyles.

Diaconate The diaconate is an ordained ministry in several Christian communions that is primarily marked by works of service. The office arose out of the Acts of the Apostles, in which seven men are set aside by the Apostles to be responsible for the distribution of food and goods among the early Christian believers so that the Apostles themselves can devote themselves fully to preaching and prayer (Acts 6:1–6). In the early Church the role of the deacon was described in terms both of service and of liturgy. By the Patristic era, the diaconate had solidified as one of three liturgical offices in the Christian Church: diakonia (deacon), presbyter (priest), and episcopos (bishop). The deacon’s role in the liturgy was to perform baptisms, proclaim the Gospel, and give sermons (and later officiate at weddings); they did not celebrate the Mass or hear confessions like priests or perform ordinations or confirmations like bishops. In some communities, female deaconesses were appointed for baptismal rites, which were segregated according to gender since baptisms were often performed naked. During the Reformation, the office was reconstituted, particularly by John Calvin, in light of its New Testament connotations. Calvin’s Geneva saw deacons particularly in light of their call to service to the community; as such, they were closely connected with the hospital in Geneva. Though they were still set aside (through a laying-on of hands) for their service, their ordination was not conceived as part of a rigid three-tier ministry. Tanner, “The True and Catholic Doctrine of the Sacrament of Order,” Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils Volume II Trent-Vatican II, 1990, 742–53; Olson, Calvin and Social Welfare: Deacons and the Bourse Française, 1989; Osborne, The Diaconate in the Christian Church: Its History and Theology, 1996. B.E.H.

Devotio Moderna Latin for “modern devotion,” refers to a Catholic movement of spiritual renewal in the late Middle Ages. Especially prominent in Dutch cities, it flourished during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. It was composed of different communal houses for both men and women; in contrast, however, to other religious orders such as the Franciscans or Dominicans, followers of this new devotion did not take vows. Devotio Moderna is generally characterized 396

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 396

12/19/2000 10:09:06 AM

A Reformation ABC

by a vigorous inward devotion or piety (particularly with regard to Christ’s life and passion), scriptural and spiritual meditation, and virtuous living. The founder of this movement, Geert Groote (1340–84), was a wealthy and educated man whose religious experience later in his life compelled him to renounce his worldly living and to open up his house for those who wanted to devote their lives to Christ independent of the cares of the world. Key terms for the movement were conversion (turning toward the new community through a continued process of piety); exercises (spiritual training accomplished through prayer, reading, work, and worship); and ardency (kindling the spark of devotion that spurs one on toward God and goodness). Although not recognized by the Church or considered as being bound by the different houses, each community constructed general guidelines of living for the members to follow. Such guidelines included customs for all the activities done on a weekly basis: work, worship, dining, traveling. This movement formed a community called Brethren of the Common Life, which is perhaps most famous for its schools throughout the Continent (which schooled both Erasmus and Martin Luther) as well as one of its members, Thomas a Kempis, who went on to write one of the most popular religious books in the entire Western world. Kempis’ Imitation of Christ and Devotio Moderna: Basic Writings, ed., Van Engen. D.C.

Diet of Worms The Diet of Worms has gone down in history as the event at which Luther refused to recant by appealing to his conscience, but the “Luther Affair” was not on the original agenda of the 1521 diet. Representatives of the papacy were pressuring Emperor Charles V to reinforce Luther’s recent excommunication by enacting an imperial ban, so Luther’s prince, Frederick the Wise, insisted that Luther be given a hearing to determine whether or not he was in error. When Luther appeared before the diet on April 17, 1521, he was asked simply whether he had authored the books published under his name and whether he stood by their contents. Luther replied that he had written them, and while he was certainly capable of error, he would recant only if an error were proven by Scripture. When asked more directly whether he would recant, Luther replied that he could not recant if it went against Scripture or his conscience. “As long as my conscience is captive to the words of God,” he stated, “I neither can nor will recant, since it is neither safe nor right to act against conscience.” On May 8, 1521, the emperor issued the Edict of Worms, which banned Luther and his followers from the empire. On the way home from the Diet of Worms, Frederick the Wise 397

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 397

12/19/2000 10:09:06 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

arranged to have Luther taken to the Wartburg Castle, where Luther would remain in hiding for almost a year. Brecht, Martin Luther: His Road to the Reformation, 1483–1521, 1985, 433–76; Jensen, Confrontation at Worms, 1973. A.M.J.

Disputation The disputation was a main teaching pedagogy during the medieval era that involved the debate often over a set of theses. Martin Luther’s Ninety-Five Theses were written for just such an academic disputation. As the Reformation began, public disputations over the need for and scope of church reforms played a significant role in furthering the Reformation. Some of the most famous public disputations include Heidelberg (1518), Leipzig (1519), Zurich (1523), Bern (1528), and Geneva (1535). Backus, The Disputations of Baden (1526) and Berne (1528), 1993; Evans, Problems of Authority in Reformation Debates, 1992.

Dominicans Founded in 1216 by Dominic de Guzman (c. 1170–1221), the “Order of Preachers” was meant to preach the Gospel and combat heresy, particularly the Albigensians and Waldensians. Like the Franciscans, the Dominicans were an order of mendicant friars. The Dominicans left a substantive stamp on the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. They doubled in numbers from 1500 to 1700, with a considerable presence in places like Scotland and the Americas. Pope Paul III put the Dominicans in charge of the Inquisition in 1541. The position of Master of the Sacred Palace, or official Papal theologian, was almost always occupied by a member of the order. Johann Tetzel, a preacher involved in a controversy over indulgences with Martin Luther, was a Dominican. Many other important Dominicans debated or wrote against Martin Luther, notably Tommaso de Vio Cardinal Cajetan and Sylvester Prierias. The Reformer Martin Bucer was a former Dominican, one of the few major Reformation figures to come from the order. Dominicans also had an influence on Spanish colonies in the Americas, chiefly through the intervention of the Dominican Priest Bartholome de las Casas. By 1511 Dominican preachers, notably Antonio de Montesinos, had been preaching against Spanish oppression of the indigenous Americans on the island of Hispaniola. Las Casas wrote a treatise on peaceful evangelization that may

398

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 398

12/19/2000 10:09:06 AM

A Reformation ABC

have directly influenced Pope Paul III’s bull Sublimis Dei, which denounced enslavement of indigenous peoples in the Americas. The theology of the Dominican order in the sixteenth century was heavily influenced by Thomas Aquinas, who was declared a Doctor of the Church by the Dominican Pope Pius V in 1567. The Dominicans Francisco de Vitoria and Melchior Cano chaired the School of Salamanca in Spain, which worked to promote scholasticism and the thought of Thomas Aquinas in the context of (and against) Renaissance humanism. Auth, Dominican Bibliography and Book of Reference, 1216–1992, 2000; Daniel-Rops, The Catholic Reformation, 1964; Hinnebusch, A History of the Dominican Order, 1966. M.A.

Dort, Synod of The Synod of Dort was an assembly of divines from the Reformed tradition that met in the city of Dordrecht, Holland, from the fall of 1618 to the spring of 1619. The chief purpose of the synod was to respond to the theology of the followers of Jacob Arminius (1560–1609). Arminius had taught a subtle doctrine of predestination wherein God chose some to salvation and others to damnation, but God based his decision on his foreknowledge of how an individual would respond to the free offer of his grace. Arminius’s followers expanded on his teachings, claiming that Christ’s death was fully atoning for the entire human race (though only those who believed in Christ derived benefit from it), that all humans had the power to assent to or resist grace, and that true believers could fall away so far as to lose justifying faith. The Synod of Dort rejected these positions. Its canons declared that God’s election is not based on any foreseen faith or obedience as a necessary condition, that Christ’s atoning sacrifice on the cross is efficacious only to the elect, that human beings are corrupt from birth and unable to return to God without the help of his grace, and that those elected by God can neither resist his grace nor ever fall away so far as to lose justifying faith. The doctrine of the Synod of Dort is often summarized by the acronym TULIP—total depravity, unconditional election, limited atonement, irresistible grace, and perseverance of the saints. Although the canons of the Synod of Dort were immediately binding only for the Reformed Church of the Netherlands, many other European Reformed churches eventually adopted them as the standard of orthodoxy. De Jong, Crisis in the Reformed Churches, 1968; and Scott, ed., The Articles of the Synod of Dort, 1856. J.G.

399

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 399

12/19/2000 10:09:06 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Eck, Johann (1486–1543) Born as Johann Maier, his surname would be most commonly referred to as Eck for his birthplace: Eck, in Swabia. Eck would receive degrees from the universities of Tubingen, Heidelberg, Cologne, and Freiburg. In 1510, Eck became a professor at the University of Ingolstadt. Prior to 1517, Eck was best known for his work: “Chrysopassus,” where he detailed his understanding of predestination, merit, and free-will. Following the posting of the 95 Theses, Eck became the leading polemicist against Luther. Eck debated with Luther and Karlstadt at the Leipzig Disputation. Subsequently, Eck travelled to Rome and was instrumental in drafting the papal bull which excommunicated Luther. The remainder of Eck’s life, as well as his publications, were spent in opposition to Luther. Eck would even go so far as to publish a German translation of the Bible, in 1537, which was, at least in part, a response to Martin Luther’s translation. At the time of his death in 1543, Eck and his writings had set a polemic tone which would be used to counter the reformation for generations. Battles, trans. Enchiridion of commonplaces against Luther and other Enemies of the Church, 1979; Bagchi, Luther’s Earliest Opponents, 1991. A.L.W.

Election Election pertains to the choice, will, or purpose of God with particular reference to salvation. As part of the language of Scripture itself (see, e.g., Matthew 24, Mark 13, Romans 8 and 11, 2 Timothy 2, and Titus 1), Christian testimony has always included it. Specific usages have, however, varied in meaning and emphasis. Augustine argued that Pelagius had reduced soteriology to a function of rewarding human merit. For Augustine, a proper doctrine of election safeguarded the dignity of Christ’s grace in saving humanity whose sinfulness was otherwise so radical as to have no hope of reconciliation with God. In the Reformation era, election once more became a central matter of contention. Luther deliberately echoed much Augustinian rhetoric in his famous debate with Erasmus concerning the efficacy of human will. The doctrine of election is most strongly associated with the Calvinist tradition. Calvin vociferously defended himself from certain contemporaries who suggested that he should leave election to the unspoken mysteries of God. Calvin claimed it was his duty to expound the full witness of Scripture since God had provided it for the edification of the church. He couched this discussion in a pastoral framework; assurance of salvation was a point of anxious uncertainty in Reformation Europe. Rather than making impersonal deductions from the principals of God’s universal providence—a method not always avoided 400

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 400

12/19/2000 10:09:06 AM

A Reformation ABC

by Huldrych Zwingli—Calvin underscored the graciousness of divine will revealed in Christ. He did not, however, strictly equate the terms “election” and “predestination.” Many other Reformers had preferred to treat election as the positive action of God, relegating notions of damnation to a passive non-election. For Calvin, predestination was two-fold. Election concerned the precise subset of humanity whom God foreknew to be saved because He had already elected them to receive divine adoption in Christ. The other side of predestination concerned the admittedly “horrible decree” of reprobation; God had chosen to condemn everyone who was not chosen in Christ. One must add that Calvin forbade speculating about the identity of the reprobate. His treatment of election characteristically returned to an exhortation for the church in distress. Election was the church’s language for the unshakeable trustworthiness of grace; all who looked to Christ in faith would not be passed over but could have confidence of God’s salvation. In the period of so-called orthodoxy following the Reformation proper, elaborations concerning election moved beyond the pastoral-exegetical framework and sometimes culminated in rancorous disputations as to the precise relationship of God’s election to the order of creation. Calvin, Concerning the Eternal Predestination of God, 1997; Calvin, Institutes; Luther, The Bondage of the Will, 1957; Zwingli, On Providence and Other Essays, 1999. J.W.

Elizabeth I (1533–1603 r. 1558) Queen of England from 1558–1603 under whose reign the Church of England took its distinct identity. After the death of her father, Henry VIII, the throne of England fell first to Elizabeth’s half-brother, Edward VI (1547–1553), and then her half-sister, Mary I (1553–8). Although she was briefly imprisoned by her Catholic half-sister Mary and regularly viewed with suspicion while she was queen, Elizabeth managed to survive and took the throne after Mary’s death. The last of the rulers of the Tudor dynasty, Elizabeth never married yet proved to be a powerful ruler. She became queen at the age of 25 and ruled for more than 40 years. Theologically, Elizabeth was a moderate Protestant and, as a political leader, was compelled to appease roughly three different groups of people: Catholics, in England and on the Continent, moderate Protestants (later called Anglicans), and more conservative Protestants (later called Puritans), who had begun to make their appearance during Elizabeth’s reign. One of the most urgent needs during the beginning of Elizabeth’s reign was religious stability. Whereas the reign of Edward VI saw the triumph of Protestantism, the reign of Mary I saw the squelching of all things Protestant and the resurgence of Catholicism. Therefore, one of Elizabeth’s first acts as 401

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 401

12/19/2000 10:09:06 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

queen was to undo what Mary had done. This came in the form of two acts, in particular. The Act of Supremacy (1559) confirmed Elizabeth as the supreme governor of the Church of England, while the Act of Uniformity (1559) made changes to the liturgy. Elizabeth’s moderate proposal succeeded throughout her reign, though the growing division between the Anglicans and Puritans would plague the next several rulers of England. Collinson, The Elizabethan Puritan Movement, 1982; and Haugaard, Elizabeth I, Queen of England, 1968. D.C.

Enclosure Enclosure, or clausura, is the physical enclosure of a monastic community that separates the community from the outside world and, most especially, the opposite sex. Though the practice dates to the early church, it was codified by the papal bull Periculoso in 1298 and reaffirmed by the Council of Trent in 1566. The Tridentine enclosures focused almost exclusively on female sex monastic communities and ordered that non-enclosed houses be suppressed.

Erasmus, Desiderius (1466–1536) A humanist, theologian, Augustinian canon, and priest, Erasmus was the most prominent scholar in Europe in the sixteenth century. He was educated and taught in the foremost European universities. In those various locations he nurtured his love of classical letters and church fathers, two key ingredients for his life-long attempts to combine humanism and Christianity. Erasmus’ relationship to the Reformation is complex. Like the reformers, he advocated simplicity and sincerity in devotion, emphasized the centrality of Scripture, and criticized the church and its priests. In addition, his edition of the Greek New Testament with a new Latin translation in 1516 was used by many Protestants to argue for a more biblical understanding of the faith. Yet Erasmus wanted to reform the church from the inside and recoiled from the discord and schism that Luther and other reformers caused in the church. After much pressure from all sides, Erasmus distanced himself from Luther in 1524 with his work On the Freedom of the Will. In that treatise Erasmus argued that the New Testament speaks of rewarding good works; thus, the will must contribute something to salvation, however minor in relationship to grace. Luther responded in 1525 with On the Bondage of the Will, arguing that sin clouds the will to such an extent that it can contribute nothing to salvation. To his death, Erasmus was criticized by both Catholics and Protestants for his nuanced opinions of the church of his day, and after his 402

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 402

12/19/2000 10:09:06 AM

A Reformation ABC

death many of his works were placed on the Catholic Church’s Index of Forbidden books. Collected Works of Erasmus, 86 vols, 1974– ; Augustijn, Erasmus: His Life, Works and Influence, 1991; Tracy, Erasmus of the Low Countries, 1996. A.M.J.

Estienne, Robert (1503–59) Also known as Robert Stephanus, a French printer who converted from Catholicism to Protestantism later in his life and played a significant role in the printing of Protestant books during the sixteenth century. As a result of his theological views, Stephens eventually moved to Geneva from Paris, where he distinguished himself as a printer. He specialized in theological works, which included Bibles in Hebrew, Greek, Latin, and the vernacular, as well as other theological works by writers such as Philip Melanchthon and John Calvin. Stephens was well known for the beauty and ornamentation of his books as well as his innovation in printing. For instance, he printed the first Greek New Testament to contain a textual apparatus (1550); the first Bible with verse divisions (a Greek New Testament in 1551); as well as the first Bible with both modern chapter and verse divisions (a Latin Vulgate in 1555), which the Geneva Bible soon mimicked in 1560 and the King James Version did in 1611. Stephen’s printing of these books as well as other Protestant theological writings played a crucial role in the emergence of Protestant thought in Europe. Armstrong, Robert Estienne, 1954. D.C.

Excommunication Literally, excommunication denotes the act of being removed from communion. This act has two major aspects. The first and most obvious is that an individual who is excommunicated is not permitted to partake of the Eucharistic species with those who excommunicated him or her. Second and as a consequence, excommunication connotes a form of spiritual disunity with the wider group. Since the body of Christ is described as one and singular in the New Testament (1 Cor. 1.13), being removed from the visible unity of the Church was considered tantamount to being removed from Christ, thus putting one’s salvation at risk. Excommunication was generally or at least ideally understood to be therapeutic in nature; the act of removing another from the Eucharistic table was intended to make the perceived offender repent of their deviant behavior or belief. For instance, the Rule of Benedict (written 403

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 403

12/19/2000 10:09:07 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

around 530) held provisions for monks to be excommunicated under certain circumstances. In these communities, it is clear that the purpose is not permanently to exclude the offender, but rather to refine his or her belief. In the sixteenth century, excommunication was undertaken as a disciplinary measure against a number of what became known as the Protestant reformers. The first and most notable excommunication of the Reformation was that of Martin Luther, who was excommunicated on January 3, 1521 by the Papal Bull, Decet Romanum Pontificum by Pope Leo X. Leo X, Decet Romanum Pontificum, 1521; Vodola, Excommunication in the Middle Ages, 1986. B.E.H.

Faith The primary theological dispute of the Reformation was the role of faith in justification. Based on his study of the Bible and early church writers, Martin Luther taught that sinners are justified by God through “faith alone” in Jesus Christ. Luther described this faith as trust in God’s salvation through Jesus Christ; in his Small Catechism, Luther attributed faith itself to the work of the Holy Spirit, so that Christians could not even boast of having created their own faith. This view contradicted dominant teachings about human free will and good works of love, as expressed in fifteenth-century theologian Gabriel Biel’s words: “Do what is in you and God will not deny grace.” Luther’s teaching about “faith alone” also disrupted the church’s sacramental system, rejecting the usefulness of practices like plenary indulgences and private masses. With their “faith alone” position, Lutherans were accused of rejecting works of love and of raising individual faith over the authority of the church. In response, Luther and his colleagues stressed the importance of good works as “fruits of faith” and of faithfulness first to God’s Word and then to earthly authorities. Philip Melanchthon answered many such objections in the “Apology to the Augsburg Confession” in his defense of faith alone. While later Protestants would disagree among themselves about several consequences of this teaching (for instance, the use of sacraments and the role of church discipline), “faith alone” remained central to Protestant theology and practice. The Council of Trent, on the other hand, asserted the necessity of one’s cooperation with God’s grace through faith, works of love, and the sacraments. Melanchthon, “Apology to the Augsburg Confession,” in The Book of Concord, Kolb and Wengert, 2000; Watson, Let God Be God! An Interpretation of the Theology of Martin Luther, 1947. M.J.L. 404

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 404

12/19/2000 10:09:07 AM

A Reformation ABC

Foxe, John (1517–87) English Protestant writer most known for his work Foxe’s Book of Martyrs. Foxe received his bachelor’s and master’s degrees from Oxford and was a fellow there for a few years until he was forced to resign after becoming openly Protestant. He then became a tutor in the London area, where he began writing and translating books. While in London, the religious climate worsened as Edward VI died and his half-sister inherited the throne. Foxe, along with many Protestants thinkers, fled as Marian exiles to the Continent. He lived abroad from 1554 to 1559, spending most of his time in German-speaking areas (first in Frankfurt and then in Basel). Although Foxe had been working on his monumental book (under the title Actes and Monuments) as early as the reign of Edward VI, he did not publish the first Latin edition until 1559 and the first English edition until 1563. The book, which criticized Catholicism for its violent persecutions of Protestants, was an instant success, and it went through several editions over the course of Foxe’s lifetime. It was, in fact, one of the most influential Protestant books ever written, especially in England. The book is readily available even today. Loades, ed., John Foxe and the English Reformation, 1997; Highley and King, eds, John Foxe and His World, 2002. D.C.

Franciscans The Franciscan Order, or, Order of Friars Minor, began under the direction of Francis of Assisi (1181–1226). Although born into a wealthy family, Francis experienced a sudden conversion that led him to renounce his flamboyant lifestyle. In 1208, upon hearing a reading of Matthew 10:7–19, he firmly resolved to live in poverty and apostolic obedience. Francis attracted a following, and, though unofficially recognized for many years already, the Franciscan Order received papal approval in 1223. Strong dissent soon emerged within the order. So-called Spiritual Franciscans insisted on absolute fidelity to the rule of individual and corporate poverty, while the majority of Franciscans took a more realistic approach to the needs of an international organization. In the early fourteenth century, Pope John XXII formally condemned the claims of the rigorous Spiritual party. Similar discord, however, continued to roil the Franciscan Order through the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries between parties of so-called Observants and Conventuals. The often rancorous relationship with church authorities contributed to a tradition of Franciscan criticism directed against a papacy that they blamed for unjust persecution. A stream of influential Franciscan treatises increasingly relied on the book of Revelation 405

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 405

12/19/2000 10:09:07 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

as a lens for discerning signs of the times while warning against the imminent end of the age in the form of a papal antichrist. By the time of the Reformation, humanist reservations concerning the canonicity of Revelation had curtailed much of the Franciscan-type speculation, and yet most Reformers inherited elements of Franciscan tradition. Already in 1528, Luther himself reprinted an old Franciscan treatise outfitted with his own introduction decrying the papacy. An erstwhile Franciscan preacher named François Lambert joined the evangelical cause after meeting Zwingli in 1522. Along with contributing to the constitutional order of the Reformed Church in the principality of Hesse, Lambert wrote an influential commentary on Revelation. The Franciscan legacy of interpreting Revelation as a lens to signs of the times became especially prominent, if necessarily re-worked, in the writings of Zurichers such as Theodore Bibliander and Heinrich Bullinger. Of all the Reformers, Calvin probably toed the most humanist line of suspicion vis-à-vis speculations concerning the end of the world, but even he seldom hesitated to identify the papacy as an antichristian institution. Eschatological antichristology could also play a part in Catholic polemical characterizations of notable evangelicals such as Luther or Calvin, but the Franciscan tradition came most notably to the fore in efforts to re-emphasize moral rigor within the spiritual vocations. The Capuchin order, for example, was founded in 1529 as a deliberate reassertion of Franciscan ideals of poverty and apostolic obedience. Backus, “The Beast: Interpretations of Daniel 7.2–9 and Apocalypse 13.1–4, 11–12 in Lutheran, Zwinglian and Calvinist Circles in the Late Sixteenth Century,” Reformation and Renaissance Review 3 (2000): 59–77; McGinn, Apocalypticism in the Western Tradition, 1994; Nimmo, Reform and Division in the Medieval Franciscan Order: From Saint Francis to the Foundation of the Capuchins, 1987. J.W.

Frederick the Wise (1463–1525) Frederick III, Elector of Saxony from 1486 to 1525, called “the Wise” because he protected Martin Luther from papal and imperial measures. Frederick was determined to put Wittenberg, a small town at the edge of the empire, on the map. In 1502 he established the University of Wittenberg, and he later appointed both Luther and Melanchthon to their teaching positions there. When Luther became controversial, Frederick prevented his extradition to Rome and negotiated for Luther to meet a representative of the papacy in Augsburg instead of Rome. Most famously, Frederick staged Luther’s kidnapping in 1521 on the way home from the Diet of Worms, where Luther was declared an outlaw, and had him sheltered at the Wartburg Castle. One of the great mysteries of the Reformation is why Frederick went to such extents to 406

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 406

12/19/2000 10:09:07 AM

A Reformation ABC

support his renegade professor. Frederick was inclined toward the traditional devotion Luther criticized, and he owned one of the largest collections of relics in Europe. Many have suggested that he wanted to protect the autonomy of his territory, while others have pointed to signs that he was convinced by the new theology. Ludolphy, Friedrich der Weise: Kurfürst von Sachsen 1463–1525, 1984. A.M.J.

French Confession (1559) Gallican Confession/Confession of La Rochelle. Controversy over Calvin’s influence brought Poitiers area pastors together to discuss their desire for national unity in doctrine and discipline. This desire was brought to Paris where the first national synod was called in 1559 and a 39-article confession was adopted. Delivered to Charles IX by Theodore Beza in 1561 it was not sanctioned until Henry IV. The Seventh National Synod in LaRochelle, 1571, ratified a 40-article version; appended articles further define God and enumerate the canon. Ongoing revisions proposed, and some adopted, through later national synods; replaced in practice by Canons of Dort at national synods in 1620 and 1623. Some ascribe origins of original 35 articles to a Parisian church’s confession presented to King Henry II (1557) or a Genevan model; others to John Calvin, who sent delegates to the Poitiers synod. These proposals reflect the confession’s Reformed orthodoxy in its statements on: God’s infallible providence, including predestination; the Spirit’s role in granting/ preserving faith and grace; Trinitarian theology; and divine/human natures of Christ. Sunshine, Reforming French Protestantism: The Development of Huguenot Ecclesiastical Institutions, 1557–1572, 2003. B.H.G.

Geneva Geneva was a free imperial city that became the center of John Calvin’s reform movement in the sixteenth century. Located at the confluence of the Rhone and Lake Geneva, it sat on trade routes between Italy, the Low Countries, and France. A prince-bishop loyal to the Dukes of Savoy ruled the city, along with the cathedral canons of the Catholic Church, and an elected Senate. In the 1520s, both France and Savoy threatened to take sole control of Geneva. A group of Genevan patricians (Enfants de Geneve) sought military aid from Protestant Berne in order to gain independence. As the armies 407

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 407

12/19/2000 10:09:07 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

of Berne invaded, the Prince-bishop and the canons fled. Berne, however, stopped short of taking the city for fear of war with France and settled for an alliance. Thus, in 1536, Calvin entered the protestant republic of Geneva. The city came to be ruled by the General Council, who elected the Council of 200, from which came the Council of Sixty, and the Petite Council or Senate. The Petite Council was made up of about twenty-five natural born citizens. The Senate followed Berne’s model of exercising final authority over the church and expelled Calvin and Farel in 1538 for opposition. During his absence, Cardinal Sadolet wrote to Geneva to bring the city back to the Roman church. Calvin’s 1539 Reply to Sadolet encouraged the republic to continue with reform. The alliance with Berne broke down in 1541, and the city asked Calvin to return. Calvin began working with a new government that same year. Calvin drafted Ecclesiastical Ordinances as well as a revised constitution for the city. Most notably, he assembled the Company of Pastors for weekly meetings and formed a Consistory of elders who oversaw church discipline. All was in place by 1546, but trouble came when Jerome Bolsec and Michael Servetus disputed Calvin’s theology in separate incidents and libertines rebelled against the moral enforcements of the Consistory. Calvin overcame these opponents through tireless pastoral influence and with help from French refugees who settled in Geneva. The city began to stabilize in 1555 and Calvin established the Academy of Geneva in 1559, which became a Calvinist training center to the rest of Western Europe. Naphy, Calvin and the Consolidation of the Genevan Reformation, 2003; Wallace, Calvin, Geneva and the Reformation, 1988. M.H.

Good Works The Protestant teaching of justification by faith alone encountered serious opposition because it excluded good works from Christian salvation. In the Roman Catholic Church, the ability to do good works belongs to God’s unmerited grace and mercy to sinners; God gives grace to Christians to use their free will to do good works. Without good works, one’s salvation remains incomplete, as taught in James 2:24: “You see that a person is justified by works and not by faith alone.” In response, Protestants including Luther, Melanchthon, and Calvin emphasized that good works do not have a role in God’s free justification of sinners but follow faith, stressing the metaphor of the good tree that bears good fruit (Mt. 7.17–20) and Paul’s argument in Romans 3.28: “For we hold that a person is justified by faith apart from works prescribed by the law.” While Calvin’s emphasis on submission to God’s will continued to give good works a high place among Reformed 408

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 408

12/19/2000 10:09:07 AM

A Reformation ABC

congregations, Lutheran emphasis on “faith alone” and “Christian freedom” inspired ongoing controversies in Germany. In the Majoristic controversy, for instance, Wittenberg professor Georg Major’s statement that good works are necessary for salvation found opposition among other theologians who proposed that good works are harmful for salvation because they lead to selfrighteousness. Article four of the 1577 Formula of Concord rejected both statements as extreme. Despite such theological controversies, the church orders written in Protestant lands (e.g., by Martin Bucer in southern Germany and Johannes Bugenhagen in northern Germany and Scandinavia) demonstrate a serious concern that justification by faith alone should lead to concrete social change and improved living conditions through good works of charity and love for the neighbor. Lindberg, Beyond Charity: Reformation Initiatives for the Poor, 1993. M.J.L.

Grebel, Conrad (1498–1526) Known as the “father of Anabaptism,” Grebel was, originally, a staunch supporter of Huldrych Zwingli. Born in 1498 in Switzerland, Grebel failed university in both Vienna and Paris. Grebel eventually converted to the new “Protestant” version of Christianity and soon became involved in studying Erasmus’ Greek New Testament with Zwingli and other Zurich reformers. Grebel, led potentially by his youthfulness at the time, was soon to become a zealous reformer. Eventually, Grebel’s zealousness and impatience would lead to confrontation with the Zurich city council and, ultimately, with Zwingli. Theologically, Grebel would display a rigid literalism which would guide his ideals of reform. Following Zwingli’s standard that whatever was not commanded in scripture was no longer necessary, Grebel would come to advocate a belief system which emphasized the profession of faith in adults and a baptismal system which depended on such a confession. These beliefs would lead Grebel into quasi-alliances with Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt and Thomas Muntzer; both of whom were, like Grebel, anti-clerical in belief. In 1525 Grebel would enact what enact a de-facto split with the Zwinglian church in Zurich by baptizing George Blaurock, who, in turn, baptized all who were present in the home of Felix Mantz. Such actions led Grebel into legal troubles with the Zurich city council. Seen as inspiring illegal church meetings, Grebel spent time in prison before fleeing and subsequently dying of the plague in 1526. Bender, Congrad Grebel, c. 1498–1526: The Founder of the Swiss Brethren, 1971. A.L.W. 409

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 409

12/19/2000 10:09:07 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Heidelberg Catechism (1563) A catechism of the Reformed Church. When Frederick III became the Elector of the Palatinate, he changed his religious faith from Lutheranism to Calvinism. Frederick encouraged several Heidelberg theologians and religious leaders, including Caspar Olevianus (1536–87), and Zacharius Ursinus (1534–83) to compile this catechism for the religious unity of his territory. Adopted in 1563, the catechism has three main sections, which are divided into fifty-two parts containing a total of 129 questions and answers about God, human life, redemption, and gratitude. The questions on human life deal principally with the issues of sin and the wrath of God. Those on redemption focused on the Sacraments and the Apostles’ Creed. Those on gratitude covered the Lord’s Prayer and the Decalogue. These 129 questions are spread out over the course of a year of Sundays, so that they can be useful for the Sunday worship service. This catechism has been used throughout the world in the Reformed tradition in tandem with the Westminster Catechism (1643), especially in Germany and North America. It contains the basic doctrines and practices of the church. Olevianus, A Firm Foundation: an Aid to Interpreting the Heidelberg Catechism, trans. and ed. Bierma, 1995; and Bierma, et al., eds, Introduction to the Heidelberg Catechism, 2005. S.S.

Helvetic Confessions The year 1536 was an unusually promising one with respect to the often strained relations between reformers in the Swiss Confederation and German principalities to the north. Swiss evangelical delegates, in conjunction with certain southern Germans such as Martin Bucer and Wolfgang Capito, gathered in Basel. There they agreed upon a statement of faith known as the First Helvetic Confession, or, given its relationship to an earlier statement issued by the church in Basel, the “Second Basel Confession.” Through a variety of diplomatic channels, Luther himself sent word of positive reaction to the document, but the Swiss were left to wonder whether this represented an official consensus or an intermediary stage toward some further confession. Complications soon arose in Swiss suspicions that Bucer was secretly seeking to submit Swiss interests to the Lutheran Schmalkald alliance. Old emotions finally shattered the hope for church concord when Luther resumed polemical writings that characterized Zwingli as a Nestorian, a move that distinctly alienated the Swiss evangelicals who cherished the memory of their fallen leader. By 1543 Luther underscored the divergence by writing to the Zurich church that he would always pray against the “poison” of Swiss ministry. The 410

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 410

12/19/2000 10:09:07 AM

A Reformation ABC

Second Helvetic Confession also arose amidst efforts to achieve wider concord among churches. The leader of the Zurich church, Heinrich Bullinger, had privately composed a personal confession of faith in 1562. In 1564, while facing a potentially life-threatening illness, Bullinger made this document public as an addendum to his last will and testament. Meanwhile, Friedrich III, the electoral prince of the Palatinate in the German Empire, wrote to Bullinger in late 1565 requesting confessional advice. Friedrich openly sympathized with the Reformed wing of the evangelical movement, but the imperial framework permitted a ruler to embrace only Roman Catholicism or Lutheranism. The imperial diet was set to try Friedrich for the crime of Reformed “heresy.” As a show of evangelical unity, Reformed churches throughout the Swiss Confederation (with the exclusion of Basel, who retained only the First Helvetic Confession) as well as Geneva, England, and Scotland all accepted Bullinger’s confessional statement. Additional churches subscribed over the next years. The work was printed with a dedication to all the faithful in all nations. It is debatable whether Friedrich made explicit use of the document in his defense. A series of imperial diets and religious colloquies nevertheless resolved not to convict him of charges, and so he remained a nominal “Lutheran” within the empire. The Second Helvetic Confession of Faith continues to this day to be one of the most widely accepted and favored confessional statements among the Reformed churches. “Confessio helvetica posterior von 1562,” in Die Bekenntnisschriften der reformierten Kircher, 1999; “Confessio helvetica prior von 1536,” in Die Bekenntnisschriften der reformierten Kirche, 1999; Brady, “Settlements: The Holy Roman Empire,” in Handbook of European History, 1400–1600, ed. Brady, 1995. J.W.

Henry IV (Navarre) (1553–1610 r. 1589) Henry IV was King of France from 1589–1610. His mother, Jeanne of Navarre, was a Protestant. However, he was also brought up by the Valois line, resulting in a series of “conversions” for both political and personal reasons. Most notably, upon leaving the Valois court in 1576, he renounced Catholicism (for the second time) and became the leader of the Huguenots from 1576 to 1589. He served on this side in the French Wars of Religion until the death of King Henry III in 1589, wherein he succeeded the throne and eventually returned to Catholicism in 1593. He remained Catholic until his death. However, he remembered his Huguenot friends by (forcibly) enacting the Edict of Nantes (1598), which granted them a series of places de sûreté (secure towns) in southern France. Moreover, despite his apparently genuine Catholicism, he maintained favorable relationships with both England and the Protestant German princes, and 411

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 411

12/19/2000 10:09:07 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

continued France’s animosity toward Spain and the Habsburgs in spite of their making peace in 1598. In the end, Henry IV restored a national unity to France following a long period of Civil War, centering that unity upon the Crown. Pitts, Henry IV of France: His Reign and Age, 2008. J.H.H.

Henry VIII (1491–1547 r. 1509) King of England from 1509 to 1547 under whose reign the English Church became independent of the Catholic Church. Henry was the second king of the Tudor dynasty, and inherited the throne after the death of his brother Arthur. Henry was well educated by tutors and talented in sports. Upon reception of the throne, Henry married the widow of his deceased brother, Catherine of Aragon, whose marriage had been arranged as a political alliance with Spain. Well aware of the ill effects of the War of the Roses that had occurred the century before, Henry was intent on securing a male child and became increasingly discontent with Catherine, who gave birth only to a girl, Mary I, rather than a needed male heir. After the emperor and the pope refused Henry’s request to have his marriage annulled due to religious reasons (he argued that it violated Scripture to marry the widow of one’s brother), Henry, along with the counsel of chief advisors like Thomas Cromwell, took action by cutting ties with Rome and by declaring himself as the supreme head of the English Church. Henry dissolved all the Catholic monasteries in England, redirected revenue toward himself that was going to Rome, and began organizing what would become the Church of England. Under Henry’s tenure as king, his trusted ecclesiastical advisor Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, was given considerable freedom in religious matters and aligned the nascent church with many important features of Protestant thought. In fact, Cranmer personally corresponded with and was influenced by key Protestant reformers like Philip Melanchthon, John Calvin, and Martin Bucer. Although Henry was at times, whether more politically or theologically, interested in Protestantism, he himself remained a Catholic until his death in 1547. Rex, Henry VIII and the English Reformation, 2006; and Newcombe, Henry VIII and the English Reformation, 1995. D.C.

Hoffmann, Melchior (c. 1495–1543) Anabaptist leader, born in Schwäbisch Hall, Germany and died in Strasbourg. A onetime enthusiastic follower of Martin Luther, Hoffmann promoted the 412

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 412

12/19/2000 10:09:08 AM

A Reformation ABC

Reformation throughout Livonia and Kiel, serving as preacher at Nicolaikirch. His ardent chiliasm, rejection of the full presence of Christ in the Lord’s Supper, and affirmation of the direct inspiration of the Holy Spirit quickly brought him at odds with Frederick X and many other Lutheran theologians. Hoffmann ultimately rejected Lutheranism, drawing loose ties with the Strasbourg reformers on the issue of the Lord’s Supper. His baptism at the hands of Strasbourg Anabaptists in 1530 completed his movement into the radical fringes of Reformation thought, and for the next few years he traveled throughout northern Germany and Holland baptizing many and effectively introducing Anabaptist teachings to the Netherlands. By 1533, however, Hoffmann had returned to Strasbourg where he was arrested and imprisoned, believing that the city was the prophesied spiritual Jerusalem and himself the coming Elijah who, later that year, would facilitate the return of Christ. While those responsible for the rebellion at Münster undoubtedly benefited from his earlier ministry and eschatological writings, no evidence ties Hoffmann directly to the episode. He died a decade later, still in prison. Deppermann, Melchior Hoffman, 1987; Krahn, Dutch Anabaptism, 2004. J.H.

Holy Spirit Since the time of the early church, Christians have spoken of the Holy Spirit as the third person of the Trinity, co-creator of all that is and co-eternal with the Father and the Son. The Apostles’ Creed and the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed further connect the Holy Spirit with the church, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and eternal life. In On the Trinity, Augustine described the relationship within the Trinity as lover (Father), the beloved (Son), and the love that binds them (Holy Spirit). Over time, the Latin West added the filioque to the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed’s statement about the Holy Spirit: “who proceeds from the Father and the Son [filioque].” Along with political tensions and ritual differences, this teaching of the procession of the Spirit contributed to the 1054 mutual condemnation between the Latin and Greek churches. A consistent challenge to church leaders during the Reformation came from those who claimed direct revelation from the Holy Spirit. Although believing in the ongoing work of the Spirit, the reformers grew distrustful of such visions after the apocalyptic rhetoric of the 1525 Peasants’ War; they called those who believed in such direct revelation Schwärmer (usually translated as “enthusiasts”). In this light, the Reformation slogan sola scriptura not only countered papal claims of authority apart from the Bible but also offered a check on idiosyncratic claims of revelation and prophecy: spiritual visions should be evaluated in light of their consistency with scripture. 413

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 413

12/19/2000 10:09:08 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

More important and trustworthy for the reformers was the revelation already given about the ongoing work of the Spirit, which is found in God’s Word, preaching, the sacraments, prayer, and Christian love to neighbors. Confessing the One Faith: An Ecumenical Explication of the Apostolic Faith, Faith and Order, 1991; Shults and Hollingsworth, The Holy Spirit, 2008. M.J.L.

Hubmaier, Balthasar (c. 1481–1528) Anabaptist theologian born near Augsburg and died in Vienna. He studied theology under Johann Eck at Freiburg and Ingolstadt, where he took his doctorate in 1512, subsequently serving as professor and rector. In 1516, Hubmaier became cathedral preacher at Regensburg where he orchestrated the 1519 expulsion of the city’s Jews and the transformation of their synagogue into a Marian chapel. His actions there have indelibly linked him with sixteenth-century antiSemitism. After his 1521 appointment as parish priest in Waldshut, Hubmaier adopted significant aspects of humanism and Lutheranism which led him to introduce Reformation principles there. His sympathies with the reformed theology of Huldrych Zwingli and the believer’s baptism of Zurich’s Anabaptists persuaded Hubmaier to be baptized on Easter, 1525. The author of at least sixteen theological tracts, Hubmaier was the most prolific Anabaptist theologian in the first half of the sixteenth century. However, a believer in a Christian government’s right to use the sword, Hubmaier resisted Anabaptism’s pacifist tendencies, even participating in the Peasants’ War. Charged with heresy and treason, his unwillingness to recant in 1528 won him a martyr’s death at the stake. His wife, Elsbeth Hügline, was shortly afterward drowned in the Danube. Pipkin and Yoder, eds and trans, Balthasar Hubmaier: Theologian of Anabaptism, 1989; Yoder, “Balthasar Hubmaier and the Beginnings of Swiss Anabaptism,” in Mennonite Quarterly Review 33, no. 1 (January 1959): 5–17. J.H.

Huguenots The early Reformation in France came about under the influence of Martin Luther and Catholic humanism. Nevertheless, by the 1560s French Protestants were predominantly Calvinists; a result of the preceding decade’s persecutions that drove French Protestants to Geneva. The resultant influx of Genevan pastors to France shaped French Protestantism into a Calvinist mold. The Huguenots began as a community of artisans and merchants, but grew over time to include French officials and nobility. By the early 1560s, Huguenots comprised up to 10 percent 414

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 414

12/19/2000 10:09:08 AM

A Reformation ABC

of the French population. The group expanded to compose approximately onethird of the nobility by 1562, including those who joined the Huguenot cause for both economic and religious reasons. This influx of nobility served to temper the aggression and iconoclasm which defined the earlier movement amongst the lower classes. The first national synod met in 1559 in Paris, accepting a Genevan confession, and giving ecclesiastical discipline. Calvinist orthodoxy was maintained and defended by Calvin’s successor in Geneva, Théodore de Bèze, at the national Synod of La Rochelle in 1571. From 1562 to 1598, the Huguenots were intermittently persecuted and tolerated (to some degree), and engaged in a series of eight Civil Wars (the French Wars of Religion) against French Catholics (in the later Wars, the Catholic League). Not until the succession of Henry III in 1589 by Henry IV (Navarre), a Huguenot leader for 13 years prior, did the Huguenots receive sustained toleration under the Edict of Nantes (1598). Toleration did not last, however, and by the 1620s the Huguenots were once again on the defensive, a trend that would eventuate in the revocation of the Edict of Nantes by Louis XIV in 1685 and widespread Huguenot emigration. Mentzer and Spicer, eds, Society and Culture in the Huguenot World, 1559–1685, 2002. J.H.H.

Humanism Although humanism is difficult to define because of its breadth, it is characterized by a desire to recover the languages and literatures of Greek and Latin antiquity as well as a focus on the subject areas of the humanities (especially grammar, rhetoric, history, and moral philosophy). In the sixteenth century “humanism” did not indicate secularism, as it does today. Instead, many humanists had an intense interest in the study and practice of Christianity, and many of these Christian humanists were also convinced that the late medieval church was in need of reform. They proposed measures that included reigning in abuses, focusing on the Bible and the church fathers, emphasizing internal piety, and simplifying religious rituals. Most of the prominent reformers in the Reformation were trained humanists, and many of them included reforms of education along humanistic models in their reform proposals. The aspect of humanism that had the most pronounced influence on the Reformation was its return to original sources and languages. The Greek New Testament produced by Desiderius Erasmus in 1516 became a resource for many reformers, as did his editions of the church fathers. Humanist methods were also used to expose the Donation of Constantine, which supposedly gave broad powers to the papacy, as an eighth-century fraud. Nonetheless, the conflicts among various reformers 415

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 415

12/19/2000 10:09:08 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

show that humanist influence did not dictate specific understandings of doctrine. In addition, reformers sometimes disregarded aspects of humanism that they found less helpful for their cause, a phenomenon that increased as the Reformation continued. Rummel, The Confessionalization of Humanism in Reformation Germany, 2000; Tracy, “Humanism in the Reformation,” in Reformation Europe: A Guide to Research, ed., Ozment, 1982; Trinkaus, In His Image and Likeness: Humanity and Divinity in Italian Humanist Thought, 1970. A.M.J.

Hus, Jan (1369–1415) Bohemian priest and reformer. Influenced in part by the theology and writings of John Wyclif, Hus called for widespread reforms during the Great Schism (1378–1415). Specifically, he denied papal infallibility and called into question the efficacy of indulgences. He was excommunicated in 1411. He was, nevertheless, promised safe passage by Emperor Sigismund to attend and defend his theology at the Council of Constance. While at the Council, he was condemned for his heresy and burned at the stake. His death inflamed anti-papal sentiment in Bohemia; Hussites remained a theological minority in Bohemia up to the Reformation. At the Leipzig Disputation, Luther stated that many of Hus’ theological statements were orthodox. Spinka, Jan Hus, 1968.

Iconoclasm Though its viability in the historic church has been the source of much discussion, both historic and modern, by the time of the medieval church, icons were a regular part of church-life. Icons were usually found in the form of sculptures, stained glass windows, portraits, and other various artistic renderings. With the commencement of the reformation, the question of whether icons were an allowable part of church-life was one which saw significant disagreement amongst prominent reformers. Martin Luther would be a proponent of iconic image and envisioned them as playing a role in the catechesis of those in the church. However, while Luther was in support of images and their role in the church, his compatriot, Andreas von Bodenstein Karldtadt was pointedly opposed to churches having images within them. Influenced by the humanist teachings of Erasmus, Karlstadt began his iconoclasm by speaking against the use of holy water in 1518. In 1521, while Luther was taking refuge in Wartburg Castle, Karlstadt ignited a riot which was aimed against the use of images in the churches of Wittenberg. In 1522, in response to Karlstadt’s riot, the magistracy 416

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 416

12/19/2000 10:09:08 AM

A Reformation ABC

of Wittenberg called for the removal of imagery and the abolishment of the mass. However, such actions would not be satisfactory to Karlstadt. In February Karlstadt would ignite a second riot, one which would spark Martin Luther to return to the city and, subsequently, send Karlstadt into exile. While Karlstadt’s proscriptions of images would never truly take hold in the Lutheran faith, they would find fertile ground in the world of the Reformed Protestants, beginning with the Zurich reformer, Huldrych Zwingli. Zwingli, another devotee of Erasmus, would lead a systematic stripping of images from the churches of Zurich in 1525. Similar iconoclastic views would percolate from Zwingli into the practices of other Reformed church leaders, particularly, those which were influenced by the Calvinist and Anabaptist faith traditions. Eire, War against the Idols: The Reformation of Worship from Erasmus to Calvin, 1986. A.L.W.

Ignatius of Loyola (1491–1556) Ignatius of Loyola was born around 1491, the thirteenth child of a Basque nobleman. Ignatius began his career as a courtier, which involved the expectation to be an emergency soldier. When Pamplona was attacked by French troops in 1521, Ignatius’s leg was smashed by a cannonball and he underwent a long convalescence during which he read spiritual classics, including Jacobus de Voraigne’s “Golden Legend.” Ignatius felt called to religious life and spent time at a Benedictine monastery at Monstserrat, where he began to compose his Spiritual Exercises. After this, Ignatius took basic studies and learned Latin at Barcelona, then studied scholastic theology at the Universities of Alcala and Salamanca before transferring to the University of Paris. Ignatius studied at Paris from 1528 to 1534, and in 1534 initiated his religious order, the Society of Jesus, with six others who vowed to put themselves at the Pope’s disposal. Ignatius’s initial hope was for the Society to preach to the Turks in Jerusalem, but economic and political issues forced the society to Rome, where the Pope asked the order to preach in Italy instead. The Society of Jesus was ratified by Paul III’s bull Regimini Militantis Ecclesiae in 1540, and the first Jesuit school for lay students was opened in 1548. Ignatius’s Spiritual Exercises were published in 1548 and were integral to the life of the Society of Jesus. The ranks of the Society of Jesus bloomed during Ignatius’s lifetime, from the original six to one thousand by Ignatius’s death in 1556. By the end of the sixteenth century, the order had five thousand members. Ignatius was canonized in 1622. Caraman, Ignatius Loyola: A Biography of the Founder of the Jesuits. 1990; Donnelly, Ignatius of Loyola: Founder of the Jesuits. 2004; Ravier, Ignatius of Loyola and the Founding of the Jesuits, 1987. MA 417

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 417

12/19/2000 10:09:08 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Incarnation The Incarnation was not, on the surface, a major issue in the period of the Reformation, as a basic submission to the Council of Chalcedon was agreed upon by nearly all parties. The Incarnation features in sixteenth century theology, however, in how Chalcedon was applied to debates over the Eucharist, or the Lord’s Supper. The debate between Martin Luther and Huldrych Zwingli, epitomized at the Marburg Colloquy, turned on different construals of the union between divine and human natures. Luther argued that, because of the proximity of Christ’s flesh to divinity, through God’s power Christ’s flesh was actually present everywhere, although especially in the elements of bread and wine. Zwingli, on the other hand, argued that Christ’s flesh, as a true human body, was limited by spatial location as are all other material bodies. Since, according to the Apostles’ Creed, Christ’s body resides at the right hand of the Father in heaven, Christ’s body could not simultaneously be present in the Bread and Wine: such would violate the truth of Christ’s flesh. Anabaptist theologians like Caspar Schwenkfeld and Melchior Hoffman offered different reads of the Incarnation: suggesting that Christ’s flesh became more infused with divinity throughout his life, for instance. Blough, Christ in our Midst: Incarnation, Church and Discipleship in the Theology of Pilgram Marpeck, 2007; Wandel, The Eucharist, 2006; Willis, Calvin’s Catholic Christology: the Function of the So-called Extra Calvinisticum in Calvin’s Theology, 1966. M.A.

Indulgences Luther criticized the practice of selling and buying indulgences as early as 1514, but most famously in the Ninety-Five Theses in 1517. Indulgences were granted by the church as a release from the works of satisfaction that were normally required to pay the penalty for specific sins. They were based on an idea called the treasury of merits, which said that Christ and the saints, through their virtue, had accrued merits that they did not need. An indulgence, then, used the merits of the saints and applied them toward the spiritual demerits of sinners. In the late middle ages, the claims of indulgences were expanded. Some indulgences were said to forgive not only the penalty of sin but also the guilt of sin, which was previously forgiven only by the absolution of a priest. Indulgences also began to be given for money instead of good works, and they were claimed to be transferrable to souls already in purgatory. When Luther criticized the sale and use of indulgences, he focused on two points: First, he thought that offering indulgences—particularly for 418

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 418

12/19/2000 10:09:08 AM

A Reformation ABC

money—discouraged sincere contrition and truly good works. According to Luther, Christians should continually repent of sin, and they should focus on the good works commanded by Christ instead of the promises of an indulgence. Secondly, he questioned the pope’s power to remit the punishments of those in purgatory. Instead, he argued that the church can only remit punishments that it imposes. Although Luther continued to emphasize the need for sincere repentance, it was his questioning of papal powers that ultimately set the Reformation in motion because of its inherent challenge to the church hierarchy. Hendrix, Luther and the Papacy, 1981; Swanson, Indulgences in Late Medieval England: Passports to Paradise, 2007. A.M.J.

Inquisition Inquisition refers to a church tribunal or court originally established to punish and eradicate heresy; it was expanded to include some egregious moral sins, witchcraft, and blasphemy. The Inquisition’s stated goal is the reform of the wayward sinner and their return to orthodox faith and practice. It was first established to help suppress the Waldensian and Catharist movements in the high Middle Ages. Inquisitorial ranks were dominated by Franciscans and Dominicans. The Spanish Inquisition was established in 1478 to root out marranos or converted Jews who had reverted to their old religion. The Inquisition had formal procedures for conducting trials. Most people who fell under the Inquisition’s purview were ultimately reconciled to the church. Some, however, were found guilty of heresy and turned over to secular authorities for punishment, including death. Following the Council of Trent, the Inquisition was also responsible for ensuring that books included on the Index of Prohibited Books were censured or destroyed. Kamen, The Inquisition, 1998.

Intercession of the Saints In medieval piety, it was believed that saints could petition Christ and seek his mercy on behalf of sinners. Christians thus prayed to saints—often both the Virgin Mary and either local saints or those identified with particular professions or organizations—in the hope that the saint would pray on their behalf and thus reduce the weight of their sin. In popular piety, saints could also intercede to aid in times of trouble, unrest, or danger. Luther’s famous 419

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 419

12/19/2000 10:09:08 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

thunderstorm prayer, “Save me Saint Anne and I shall become a monk,” is an example of the latter type of intercessory prayer. Luther came to reject the intercessory role of saints and the practice is condemned by the Augsburg Confession.

Jesuits The Society of Jesus, founded by Ignatius of Loyola in 1534 with six initial members, was meant to preach the Gospel, catechize the faithful, and provide spiritual guidance. The order was officially recognized in 1540 by the Papal bull Regimini Militantis Ecclesiae, after controversy over their name and conflict with the Theatines, another new order with similar objectives. Ignatius was elected as the first Superior General. The Jesuit order was entirely made up of Priests, and had a special vow of obedience to the Pope in addition to the standard three vows of religious life. The Jesuits, early on, were not as focused on the educational principles for which they came to be known, but rather they focused on spiritual formation stemming from Ignatius’s Spiritual Exercises. The first Jesuit college was founded at Messina in Sicily in 1548. The Jesuits soon saw a period of exponential growth, going from ten Jesuits in 1540 to 1,000 in 1556, the year of the death of their founder, to 5,000 by 1600. In 1599 the Ratio Studiorum, or Jesuit educational philosophy, was put together. By 1615 members of the society taught in 450 universities in Europe and at 55 seminaries. Notable Jesuit theologians include Robert Bellarmine, Francisco Suares, Petrus Cansius, and Luis de Molina. Jesuit theologians, by and large, defended free will in issues of divine grace and salvation, against emphases in Dominican theology, for instance. The Jesuits added defense of the faith to their purposes in 1550. The Jesuits were also known for missionary work. Francis Xavier, one of the six original Jesuits from 1534, went on extensive missionary journeys in Asia. The Jesuits maintained a missionary presence in Brazil, Japan, and present-day Canada as well, and were the subject of controversy, at times, for their adaptations of liturgy and theology in order to evangelize local cultures and traditions. Bangert, A History of the Society of Jesus, 1986; O’Malley, The First Jesuits. 1993. M.A.

Jewel, John (1522–71) John Jewel was the first major apologist of the Elizabethan Settlement. After receiving his M.A. at Oxford, he taught at Corpus Christi as Reader of Humanity and Rhetoric. During Peter Martyr Vermigli’s tenure as Regius

420

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 420

12/19/2000 10:09:08 AM

A Reformation ABC

Professor of Divinity at Oxford, Jewel became his close friend and protégé, and transcribed many of his lectures and disputations. Jewel was ordained a priest, and received the B.D. degree in 1552. During the reign of Mary Tudor (1553–8), Jewel lived in exile on the Continent, assisting Vermigli. After the accession of Elizabeth I in 1558, Jewel returned to England and was later appointed Bishop of Salisbury. Jewel spent most of his episcopal tenure defending the Elizabethan Settlement against Catholic detractors, especially Thomas Harding (1516–72). His three principal works were his “Challenge Sermon,” Apology of the Church of England, and Defense of the Apology. In each of these, Jewel argues that the theology and practice of the Church of England coincides with the Scriptures, Fathers, first four ecumenical councils, and the custom of the first 600 years of the church. In asserting these criteria, Jewel effectively denied Catholic opponents the recourse of appealing to later ecclesiastical tradition. The theology Jewel posits in these works stresses the primacy of Scripture, the biblical basis of Royal Supremacy, and an understanding of the Eucharist identical to Vermigli’s. Booty, John Jewel as Apologist of the Church of England, 1963; Jenkins, John Jewel and the English National Church: The Dilemmas of an Erastian Reformer, 2006. A.G.

Jews In the Old Testament, the Jews are the people constituted by the faithfulness of God to his covenant partner, Israel. This religious and ethnic group traces its roots back to the person of Abraham in the book of Genesis, who was promised descendants as numerous as the stars and as the sands of the shore. The Hebrew people were put in slavery in Egypt and led out of this slavery by Moses, who then presented the Hebrews with a covenant on Mount Sinai. It is adherence to this covenant that defines the religious community of Jews to this day. In the first century, there were a number of factions of Jews, most notably the Sadducees (whose worship centered almost exclusively on the Temple) and the Pharisees. When the second Temple was destroyed in 70, the Pharisees, due to the flexibility of their place of worship, were able to survive; the Sadducees did not. Once Christianity was legalized and made the official religion of the Roman Empire, the Jewish people began to encounter persecution by the new religious power. Over the years, many Christians accused them of “deicide,” the act of killing a god, because they were considered by many to be particularly responsible for Christ’s death on the cross. In the Reformation, Jews remained a persecuted minority. For instance, Martin

421

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 421

12/19/2000 10:09:08 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Luther’s later views on the Jews are widely and notoriously known as antiSemitic and even violent. Oberman, Roots of Antisemitism, 1984; Whitford, “Luther on the Jews,” in Luther: A Guide for the Perplexed, 2011. B.E.H.

Karlstadt, Andreas Bodenstein Von (1486–1541) Karlstadt taught in the arts and theology faculties in Wittenberg from 1504 to 1523 and was originally a defender of scholasticism. In 1516, he opposed disputation theses by Luther that argued against the scholastic notion of free will, but by 1517 Karlstadt renounced scholasticism and supported Luther’s position. Together with Luther, he debated against Johann Eck at the Leipzig Disputation. Karlstadt was named in the papal bull demanding Luther to recant or face excommunication, and after the Diet of Worms, Frederick the Wise arranged for his protection at the Danish court. Karlstadt, however, returned to Wittenberg after only two weeks and began advocating for rapid reforms in the city. On Christmas Day in 1521, he celebrated the mass in the vernacular, without vestments, excluding the canon of the mass, and offering both bread and wine to the laity. Three weeks later, he married, becoming the first priest to do so based on Reformation convictions. When he began to push for the abolition of images in Christian worship, Luther interrupted his exile to return to Wittenberg. In a series of sermons known as the Invocavit, Luther argued that reform should be introduced slowly and with regard for the consciences of the weak. After that, the University of Wittenberg restricted Karlstadt’s activities to teaching. By 1523, he left Wittenberg and began preaching in Orlamünde, Rothenburg ob der Tauber, Oldersum, Zurich, Altstätten and Basel. During this time, he took several positions opposing Luther, including pacifism, a memorialist understanding of the Eucharist, and a rejection of infant baptism. In Basel he was Professor of Old Testament and pastor at the university church, positions he gained on the recommendation of Bullinger. Preus, Carlstadt’s Ordinaciones and Luther’s Liberty: A Study of the Wittenberg Movement, 1521–1522, 1974; Sider, Karlstadt’s Battle with Luther: Documents in a Liberal-Radical Debate, 1978; —. Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt: The Development of His Thought, 1517–1525, 1974. A.M.J.

Knox, John (1510–72) Scottish churchman, leader of the Protestant Reformation in Scotland, and founder of the Presbyterian Church. Knox was educated at the University of 422

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 422

12/19/2000 10:09:08 AM

A Reformation ABC

St. Andrews and became a tutor and chaplain for several years until he was confined as a prisoner in the French galleys, for his association with those who had killed Cardinal Beaton. After his release, Knox moved to England, was licensed as a pastor in the Church of England, and began making himself known by his powerful preaching and reforming practices. He was appointed one of six royal chaplains to King Edward VI and preached regularly before him. After the young king’s death and the succession of the throne by the Catholic Mary, Knox and other reformers were no longer safe. He fled to the Continent as a Marian exile in 1554. He went first to Geneva, where he met and studied under John Calvin. Within a year, he received a call to Frankfurt to pastor many English refugees, but experienced immediate conflict. Over the next several years, Knox would return to Geneva, return to Scotland, return to Geneva, and then return to Scotland for good. While in Geneva, Knox wrote an anonymous pamphlet that vehemently attacked the reign of Mary and greatly offended Elizabeth I once she became queen in 1558, due to its argument that it was unnatural for a woman to rule. In January of 1559, Knox left Geneva for Scotland. He immediately encountered religious and political turmoil, and worked tirelessly to reorganize the Scottish Kirk along Protestant and Reformed lines. In 1560, he and several others drew up a confession of faith and made other important ecclesiastical decisions. For the next several years, he would be regularly called to meet with Queen Mary of Scots, whom he openly criticized. Until his death in 1572, Knox continued preaching, teaching, and writing, and played a significant role in the religious shape of the Church of Scotland. Knox, The First Blast of the Trumpet against the Monstrous Regiment of Women and his The History of the Reformation in Scotland; see also Marshall, John Knox, 2002; and Mason, ed., John Knox and the British Reformations, 1998. D.C.

Lateran Council, Fifth (1512–17) In spite of his promises to hold a general council upon his election, Pope Julius II refused to call a council until the final years of his papacy. In response to his refusal, a conciliar movement comprised of disgruntled cardinals (at the encouragement of Louis XII of France and Emperor Maximilian I) called a council at Pisa in 1511. This schismatic council was the provocation for Julius’s calling of the Fifth Lateran Council in the Lateran Basilica in Rome (1512). The Council ran until 1517 and addressed a variety of issues of reform in the Catholic Church shortly before the Reformation. Of the Council’s twelve sessions, the first seven were presided over by Julius II and the final five by Leo X. The Council renounced the schismatic council of Pisa, dealing a critical 423

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 423

12/19/2000 10:09:09 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

blow to the conciliar movement, and reaffirmed Papal primacy in many of its measures. A general moral reform was enacted, and the immortality of the individual human soul was affirmed (against Pietro Pompanazzi). Leo X saw that the Pragmatic Sanction of Bourges was revoked, and the Concordat of Bologna was approved in its place. A right to censorship of the press was secured for ordinaries. A tax was levied to fund a crusade against the Turkish armies. Organizational issues were addressed, and reforms were made to the process of election of the Papacy and selection of bishops. By narrow margins, Leo managed to close the Council in its twelfth meeting on March 16, 1517. The Council was not, however, widely implemented. Moreover, the Council would draw criticism from, among others, Martin Luther, particularly in its attribution to the Pope the right to call and dissolve councils independently (Pastor Aeternus). The same document was criticized by the University of Paris, as was the Concordat of Bologna. Sacrorum Concioliorum, 1902; Tanner, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 1990; Minnich, The Fifth Lateran Council: Studies on Its Membership, Diplomacy, and Proposals for Reform, 1993. J.H.H.

Latimer, Hugh (1485–1555) Born at Thurcaston near Leicester, studied at Cambridge where he was made a fellow at Clare College in 1510. After being ordained a priest, he was appointed a university preacher. At first, he began preaching against the teachings of Martin Luther and Philip Melanchthon. However, due to the influence of Thomas Bilney, Latimer came to embrace evangelical doctrine. He was chaplain to Anne Boleyn. In 1535, he became Bishop of Worcester, and resigned over his refusal to agree to the Six Articles passed by Parliament at the urging of Henry in 1539. Latimer’s influence came to its height during the reign of Edward VI, under whom the Reformation in England took a more decidedly evangelical direction. During this time, he preached his Sermon on the Plough at St. Paul’s Cross on January 18, 1548. In it, Latimer took aim at some the social injustices of his day. In doing so, he singled out those with wealth and power who either neglected or took advantage of the poor for their profit, and the general lack of compassion by a society which thought itself Christian. Latimer was burned at the stake with Nicholas Ridley during the reign of Mary Tudor in 1555. Chester, ed., Selected Sermons of Hugh Latimer, 1968; Chester, Hugh Latimer: Apostle to the English, 1954. A.G. 424

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 424

12/19/2000 10:09:09 AM

A Reformation ABC

Leipzig Disputation In June and July of 1519, Martin Luther and his Wittenberg colleague Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt debated against theologian Johann Eck at Leipzig University. The Leipzig Disputation was Luther’s first direct public challenge to papal authority, and it made this challenge a central issue of his emerging movement. The disagreement began in theses exchanged between Eck and Karlstadt over free will and indulgences. When Eck began to criticize Luther directly, Luther engaged in the debate, and the question of primal papacy took center stage. Against Eck’s argument that Christ had established the pope as head of the earthly church, Luther argued that Christ alone was head of the church on earth and in heaven. Luther did not argue against the office of the pope itself at the Leipzig Disputation, but rather that it be understood as an institution established by humans, not by divine right. The most famous moment of the Leipzig Disputation, however, was when Luther conceded that some of the teachings of Hus and Wyclif, who had been condemned as heretics in the fifteenth century, were true Christian doctrines. Eck pounced and forced Luther to state that a council of the church could err. Luther later tempered this statement, but Eck’s challenge forced him to elucidate his belief that Scripture held authority over both popes and councils. Eck claimed victory in the debate, but the publication of notes taken by observers of the Leipzig Disputation evoked public support for Luther. Brecht, Martin Luther: His Road to the Reformation, 1483–1521, 1985, 299–348; Seitz, ed., Der authentische Text der Leipziger Disputation, 1519: Aus bisher unbenutzen Quellen, 1903. A.M.J.

Leo X, Pope (1475–1521 r. 1513) Leo X was born Giovanni de’ Medici, the second son of Lorenzo de’ Medici. He was educated by leading Renaissance scholars in Florence, and received a doctorate in canon law at the University of Pisa in 1489. Pope Innocent VIII made him a cardinal, and, under Pope Julius II, he invaded Florence, restored his family to power, and managed the city government. As pope, he commissioned works of Michelangelo and Raphael, promoted missions to the Portuguese, generously donated 6,000 ducats a year to the needy, and organized a crusade against the Turks. In an effort to build papal prestige, Leo headed lavish parades through Rome featuring a white elephant. Leo funded the rebuilding of St. Peter’s Basilica by selling bishoprics to nobles, who paid for them through the aggressive sale of indulgences in their territories. The 425

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 425

12/19/2000 10:09:09 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

pushing of indulgences in Saxony led to Martin Luther’s Ninety-Five Theses that sparked the Reformation. Leo did not deal directly with Luther’s concern that indulgences were eclipsing the biblical doctrines of grace and faith in Christ. Leo’s main concern was promoting peace through papal authority. Leo tried to settle the controversy by sending Cardinal Cajetan to meet with Luther at Augsburg in 1518. When Luther pitted Scripture against papal authority, the cardinal demanded that Luther back down. Luther openly rejected Roman supremacy at the Leipzig debate (1519), and Leo issued the papal bull Exsurge Domine (1520), giving him sixty days to recant forty-one condemned articles. After Luther publicly burned the papal pronouncement, Leo followed through with the excommunication. Leo expected Emperor Charles V to enforce the ban after Luther refused to recant at the Diet of Worms (1521). Consequently, Luther would never travel freely outside his Prince’s lands again. Leo bestowed the title Defensor fidei on Henry VIII for his Assertion of the Seven Sacraments against Luther. Leo died suddenly of pneumonia on December 1, 1521, leaving a legacy of papal preeminence and Lutheran opposition. Hendrix, Luther and the Papacy, 1981. M.H.

Loci Communes Loci Communes, or “common places,” is a 1521 text by the Reformer Philip Melanchthon meant to connect Reformation theology with contemporary educational trends. Melanchthon was interested in the new Renaissance humanism that appeared in figures like Erasmus. Melanchthon thought that humanist education would lead to greater piety, along with greater ease in teaching Christian doctrine than was found with scholastic education. Melanchthon’s Loci Communes Rerum Theologicarum was meant originally as a teaching text to replace Peter Lombard’s Sentences for theological education in Wittenberg. Loci Communes ended up being the first systematic presentation of Reformation theology. Loci Communes was arranged around basic concepts needed to understand Paul’s Epistle to the Romans. These concepts, or “common places,” were the ideas one needed to grasp in order to properly read a text. The basic concepts in Romans, including sin, law, grace, and the Gospel, formed the outline of Melanchthon’s work, but he added sections on the doctrine of God and Christology. The close connection between Loci Communes and Romans leads to a dynamic relationship between the Bible and theology in Melanchthon’s text. At the same time, the focus on identifying key themes

426

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 426

12/19/2000 10:09:09 AM

A Reformation ABC

in Romans also tended to limit Loci Communes to discussions of soteriology and ethics. Wengert, Human Freedom, Christian Righteousness. Philip Melanchthon’s Exegetical Dispute with Erasmus of Rotterdam, 1998; Wengert and Graham, eds, Philip Melanchthon (1497–1560) and the Commentary, 1997. M.A.

Lord’s Supper—Eucharist, Communion The Lord’s Supper is the Christian sacrament of communion with the body and blood of Jesus Christ by eating bread and drinking wine. The sacrament is observed as a reminder of, participation in, and thanksgiving for Christ’s passion, death, and resurrection; it is done in obedience to Christ’s words at his Last Supper, “Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22.19). Through the ritual, which includes a presider speaking Christ’s words of institution and the meal being shared among believers, communicants receive forgiveness of sins (Mt. 26.28). Since early times, the Eucharist (Greek, “thanksgiving”) or Mass (from the last words of the Roman Rite, Ita, Missa est; “Go, it is sent”) has been at the heart of Christian worship, along with public reading of Scripture. During the Reformation, several controversies about the Lord’s Supper developed. Luther and his colleagues criticized payment for masses, private masses (in which the priest said the mass and communed alone), masses for the dead, the doctrine of transubstantiation, and the distribution of only the bread to the laity. Because so many church and community practices had been built around the Lord’s Supper in the Middle Ages, these critiques affected not only doctrine but social structures and popular practice, as well. Some reformers, like Karlstadt and Zwingli, went beyond Luther’s critiques to say that the proper use of the sacrament was a spiritual rather than physical eating and drinking of Christ’s body and blood through faith, thus denying the “real presence” taught by both Catholics and Lutherans. Based on this point, Lutherans and Reformed theologians disagreed over Christ’s presence in the sacrament and the nature of his ongoing presence in the world. Unlike the theology of baptism, in which different confessions could acknowledge the validity of other communities’ baptisms due to the precedent of the Donatist controversy in the early church, theologies of the Lord’s Supper often limited rather than helped efforts at Christian communion across confessional lines. Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry, World Council of Churches, Commission on Faith and Order. 1982; Wandel, The Eucharistic in the Reformation: Incarnation and Liturgy, 2006. M.J.L.

427

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 427

12/19/2000 10:09:09 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Luther, Martin (1483–1546) Luther’s theology is a complex critique and reconstruction of the via moderna, based on his agonizing confessional experience as a monk and his study of Scripture and the church fathers through the methods of Renaissance scholarship. Luther struggled with the Ockhamist teaching that, “God will not deny his grace to the one who does what is in him.” Luther’s internal sense of sin drove his study of Romans (1515–16) and St. Augustine, until he found peace in the Pauline doctrine of grace (sola gratia) and his distinction between two kinds of righteousness. According to Luther, there is one kind of righteousness through the law and another through faith alone. The object of faith-righteousness is Christ alone (solus Christus) and justifies before God. Luther’s early writings accused medieval theologians of importing Aristotelian philosophy into theology and confusing Law and Gospel. Luther distinguished Law and Gospel not primarily to divide Scripture into historical periods or genres, but to reveal its dynamic character throughout. At every point, Scripture functions to expose sin anew by the law, in order to bring salvation through the Gospel. Luther retained the via moderna philosophy of Nominalism that sought to free theology from speculative medieval philosophy. For Luther, theology must begin by studying the text of Scripture. Reason must not play an a priori, formative role but humbly receive and explore revelation. Luther referred to this as a “theology of the cross” (theologia crucis) as opposed to a theology of glory that exalts human reason. When the papacy censured Luther, he defended himself by appealing to Scripture. This conflict led to confrontation with Emperor Charles V at the Diet of Worms in 1521, where Luther declared that he did not trust popes or councils but Scripture alone (sola Scriptura). Luther published The Bondage of the Will in 1525 to answer Eramus’s On Free Choice. Erasmus had defined free choice as the ability to avail oneself of the things that lead to salvation. Luther contended that free choice (liberum arbitrium) is in bondage to sin and has no ability in relation to God. Luther conceded free will (libera voluntas) only as a capacity that can be moved by grace alone. Humans must bow before God’s hidden will, whereby all happens by divine necessity, and cling to God’s revealed will in Christ. In 1529, Luther rejected Zwingli’s symbolic interpretation of the Lord’s Supper, insisting on the real presence of Christ’s body and blood with the bread and wine. In the antinomian controversy of the late 1530s, Luther maintained that good works were a natural outflow of grace in the Christian life, and no one can be a Christian without them. The main themes of Luther’s theology had matured by this time, and he spent the rest of his life consolidating the German Reformation. Lohse, Martin Luther’s Theology, 1999; Steinmetz, Luther in Context, 1995; Whitford, Luther: A Guide for the Perplexed, 2011. M.H.

428

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 428

12/19/2000 10:09:09 AM

A Reformation ABC

Magistrates Magistrates were the leaders of government in cities and city-states of early modern Europe. As distinct from aristocratic principalities or kingdoms, the magistracy ruled in the form of an elected council, generally drawn from among the representatives of the civic guild organizations. In the case of larger city-states such as Bern, Zurich, or Geneva, magisterial councils set policies governing not only cities proper, but also large swaths of rural territory within their domain. The councils of imperial free cities also played crucial roles in the power struggles between emperors and regional princes. By the time of the Reformation, a confluence of interests attracted many magistrates to the evangelical cause. Imposing a uniform citizenship on clergy offered the prospect of better rule of law among a portion of the populace theretofore subject only to distant ecclesiastical courts. The prospect of consolidating and managing the revenues of their own ecclesiastical properties—again, rather than watching resources escape to distant bishops and church institutions—further appealed to magistrates. City counsels were keenly interested in maintaining social order. This included a religious dimension inherent in serving as guarantors of a sacral community conscious of its collective standing before God. In certain cases, this could curtail a Reformation appeal. Magisterial hesitancy grew all the more resolute in light of instances of mob violence and unmeasured iconoclasm. Peasant uprisings and anarchy exhibited by Anabaptist uprisings of 1525 and 1535 especially fanned the flame of fear. Polemic writings from the Roman Catholic perspective often sought to link Protestants with radicals of all types as partners in the same basic spirit of lawlessness. Early magisterial reformers—a term that aptly suggests the deliberate effort to coordinate church and state—seized almost any occasion in popular, polemical, systematic theological, or confessional writings both to defend themselves from the rumor of encouraging disobedient tumult and to reassure the magistrates that protection of an evangelical church best expressed their civic duty to guarantee the sacral community. Brady, Turning Swiss, 1985; Moeller, Reichsstadt und Reformation, 1987; Reinhard, Glaube und Macht: Kirche und Politik im Zeitalter der Konfessionalisierung, 2004. J.W.

Marburg Colloquy (1529) Landgrave Philipp of Hesse called the leading evangelical theologians from Saxony, South Germany, and the Swiss Cantons for the Marburg Colloquy, in order to settle disagreement over the presence of Christ in the Lord’s Supper. Emperor Charles V had become hostile to Lutherans after the Second 429

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 429

12/19/2000 10:09:09 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Diet of Speyer (1529), and Phillip needed to unify the evangelical movement in order to resist. Zwingli and Oecolampadius represented the Swiss position that Christ is spiritually present, as believers remember his body and blood. Luther insisted that Christ promised spiritual life only through his bodily presence in the Eucharist. Luther opened by saying that Christ’s words, “This is my body,” are sufficiently clear, and that he wanted biblical arguments from his opponents. Oecolampadius cited John 6:63, where Christ spoke of eating his body, but Jesus also qualified it by saying “the flesh profits nothing.” Luther referred Christ’s statement not to his body and blood, but to the disciples whose carnality (flesh) took offense at Jesus’ words. Zwingli challenged Luther that “is” often means signifies, as when Jesus said, “I am the vine.” Luther replied that it is not enough to show that Scripture uses figurative language, but to prove that it does so in the case of the Eucharist. Zwingli pressed that if Christ is human in every way, it would be absurd for his body to be simultaneously present in more than one place. Luther responded that he would not entertain arguments from geometry but only from Scripture. The controversy ended in a stalemate, and Phillip asked Luther to put forth articles for approval. The Swiss and South German Theologians signed all articles concerning the doctrines of God, Christ, and man, and Luther agreed on spiritual eating in the sacrament, while acknowledging disagreement over bodily presence. While Zwingli and the rest were just as entrenched as Luther, they did not consider this point to be church dividing, and thought political unity could be achieved. Luther saw it differently, maintaining that there could be no unity without affirming Christ’s real presence. “Marburg Colloquy and the Marburg Articles.” LW 38; Sasse, This is My Body: Luther’s Contention for the Real Presence in the Sacrament of the Altar, 1959; Steinmetz, “Scripture and the Lord’s Supper in Luther’s Theology,” in Luther in Context, 1995. M.H.

Marian Exiles English Protestants who fled England during the reign of Mary I, from 1553 to 1558. At the death of the Protestant King Edward VI, the throne went to the Catholic Mary I, daughter of Catherine of Aragon. Unlike her half-brother, Mary was raised Catholic and spent the entirety of her short reign repealing all of the advances that Protestantism had made under her brother’s tenure. In total, there were around 800 Marian exiles, most of whom joined existing Protestant communities or formed their own. These exiles generally consisted of well-educated theologians and clergymen along with the upper430

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 430

12/19/2000 10:09:09 AM

A Reformation ABC

class or gentry of England. Although they remained in the Continent for several years, they had planned to return to England once Mary was no longer queen. Included among the exiles were important clergymen like Edmund Grindal (the future Archbishop of Canterbury), John Knox (leading Protestant Reformer in Scotland), and Miles Coverdale (the first person to publish a completed English Bible). Once Mary died and Elizabeth I took the throne in 1558, most refugees returned to England, where they tended to clash with moderate Protestants. Danner, Pilgrimage to Puritanism: History and Theology of the Marian Exiles, 1999. D.C.

Marriage The practice of marriage among Christians was widespread from the earliest days of the Church, based upon the teachings of Jesus and St Paul found in the New Testament (see for instance John 4 and Matthew 19). Marriage was the last of the seven sacraments of the Roman Catholic Church to be widely acknowledged by that Christian communion; it was understood explicitly as a sacrament (symbolizing the union between Christ and the Church) only beginning in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. As a matter of practice, Roman Catholic priests (though not bishops) had been allowed to marry even into the eleventh century. However, by the sixteenth century, all Roman Catholic clergy were restricted to celibacy. Among the reforms instituted by Martin Luther after his excommunication was the deregulation of celibacy among the clergy. Luther’s own departure for the Augustinian monastic order and subsequent marriage to Katharina von Bora sealed his own position on the topic of clerical celibacy. Many of the reformers, as a consequence of their belief in the priesthood of all believers, were interested in asserting that all states of life were of equal value before God, and thereby encouraged marriage for both clergy and lay people. Harrington, Reordering Marriage, 1995; Witte, From Sacrament to Contract: Marriage, Religion, and Law in the Western Tradition, 1997. B.E.H.

Mary I (1516–58) Queen of England from 1553 to 1558 under whose reign Catholicism made its last resurgence in England before Protestantism triumphed in the next generations. Mary was the first child of Henry VIII, and the only daughter of Catherine of Aragon. Unlike her half-brother Edward (son of Jane Seymour) 431

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 431

12/19/2000 10:09:09 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

and half-sister Elizabeth (daughter of Anne Boleyn), Mary was raised as a Catholic, and she was strongly opposed to Protestantism. Due to her executions of more than 300 Protestants, including the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, Mary earned the title “Bloody Mary,” and hundreds of Protestants (known as Marian exiles) fled to the Continent. Mary’s reign was unpopular, and her marriage to a (Catholic) Spaniard worsened her relations with the English and Protestants. Despite her attempts, she never had a child and her husband returned to the Continent at the end of her life. Mary was a sickly person, and her ill health worsened in the latter part of the 1550s. She also resented and feared her younger sister Elizabeth, and had her under close watch while she was queen. Duffy and Loades, ed., The Church of Mary Tudor, 2006; and Loades, Mary Tudor, 1990. D.C.

Melanchthon, Philip 1497–1560 Philip Melanchthon was born in Bretten in 1497. Johannes Reuchlin, a renowned humanist scholar, was his great uncle by marriage; Reuchlin encouraged Philip’s study of classical Greek and Latin and first commended to him the Greek name “Melanchthon” in place of the German “Schwarzerd” (both mean “black earth”). Melanchthon earned a bachelor’s degree from the University of Heidelberg at age 14. He studied next in Tübingen, where he published an edition of the Latin poet Terence and a Greek grammar text. In 1518 he became professor at the University of Wittenberg with the goal of bringing humanistic reforms to the curriculum. At Wittenberg, he quickly became convinced of Luther’s ideas, was granted a bachelor of theology degree, and married the mayor’s daughter, Katharina Krapp. In 1521, Melanchthon published the first systematic evangelical (Lutheran) theological text, the Loci Communes. His unique method for that work—inspired by Erasmus—was to read Romans with an eye on the rhetorical touchstones that advanced Paul’s theological argument. These common points (loci communes) then built to a cohesive biblical theology with justification by faith at its center. Melanchthon also contributed to the practical life of the church by planning for and participating in the reform of the church in Electoral Saxony. In 1530, Melanchthon finalized the Augsburg Confession for presentation to Emperor Charles V; although based on previous documents composed together with colleagues like Luther, Brenz, Bugenhagen, and Jonas, the document required late revision to address new Roman Catholic critiques. In response to the Roman Confutation, which Charles accepted over against the Augsburg Confession, Melanchthon wrote the “Apology to the Augsburg Confession,” expanding especially on the 432

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 432

12/19/2000 10:09:10 AM

A Reformation ABC

far-ranging implications of justification by faith alone. Active in discussions across confessional or territorial lines, Melanchthon took part in meetings surrounding the Wittenberg Concord with Swiss reformers (1536), the Smalcald Articles composed by Luther in anticipation of the Council of Trent (1537), and the Colloquy of Worms with Roman Catholic theologians (1540). When Charles V brought evangelical churches back to Roman oversight after the Smalcaldic War, Melanchthon was the first to speak against the Emperor’s Augsburg Interim (1548). Despite his stance, Melanchthon and his colleagues received harsh critiques from other Lutherans for working with politicians, lawyers and Roman Catholics bishops to craft alternatives to the Interim. Melanchthon’s final years were marked by controversy, but he remained a respected and central figure in German theology and education. Melanchthon died in 1560 at the age of 63 and was buried across from Luther in Wittenberg’s Castle Church. For his educational leadership and reforms, he continues to be remembered as Praeceptor Germania: teacher of Germany. Hendrix and Wengert, Philip Melanchthon: Then and Now (1497–1997), 1999; Melanchthon, “Loci Communes Theologici,” [1521] in Melanchthon and Bucer, 1969; Melanchthon, “Apology to the Augsburg Confession,” in The Book of Concord, Kolb and Wengert, 2000; Scheible, “Luther and Melanchthon,” in Lutheran Quarterly IV, 3 (1990): 317–39. M.J.L.

Merit Merit (meritum) refers to the worthiness of an act or the reward due for such an act. Augustine taught that human merit was the basis of justification but solely a gift of God’s grace (meritum donum Dei) and is produced by faith working love (Gal. 5.6). Thomas Aquinas had argued that the works of a regenerate person have a meritum de congruo or a merit proportionate to that person’s nature. Considered this way, no human merit can justify. But those same works receive a further gift of grace from the Holy Spirit, so that they have a meritum de condigno or a full merit. Considered this way, human merit is worthy of eternal life. Whereas Aquinas held that both kinds of merit were dependent on grace, Duns Scotus taught that congruous merit was possible for a person in a state of nature. If a person did what was in him (facere quod in se est), God would graciously accept it as meritum de congruo and add grace (donum superadditum) thereby bestowing meritum de condigno. Late medieval theologians like William Ockham and Gabriel Biel followed Scotus in teaching that a person has the natural ability to prepare for grace. By doing what is in him (meritum de congruo) he receives justifying grace (meritum de condigno). Luther and Calvin argued that grace and faith are 433

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 433

12/19/2000 10:09:10 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

biblically antithetical to human merit and works. For the Reformers, merit was in Christ and imputed to the believer, not produced in the believer. Luther spoke of an alien righteousness (iustitia aliena) that was appropriated by faith alone (sola gratia), without the works of the law (Gal. 2.16). In the Smalcald Articles (1537) Luther declared that justification “may not be obtained or grasped . . . with any work, law, or merit” and that “faith alone justifies.” McGrath, Alister, Iustitia Dei: A History of the Christian Doctrine of Justification, 1998; Lane, Anthony N. S., “Traditional Protestant Doctrine: John Calvin,” in Justification by Faith in Catholic-Protestant Dialogue: An Evangelical Assessment, 2002; Oberman, Heiko, “‘Iustitia Christi’ and ‘Iustitia Dei’: Luther and the Scholastic Doctrines of Justification,” Harvard Theological Review 59 (1966) no. 1: 1–26. M.H.

More, Thomas (1478–1535) English lawyer and humanist who was Lord Chancellor to King Henry VIII and who was eventually beheaded for refusing to deny the king’s authority over the Church of England. More studied at Oxford and went on to become a celebrated humanist who was also a prolific writer. More assisted Henry VIII in writing a defense of the seven sacraments against Martin Luther and he wrote a virulent response to Luther’s reply. Eventually Henry made More his Lord Chancellor in 1529, and More became well known for persecuting several key Protestant leaders in England. More gradually lost the favor of the king for not attending the king’s wedding to Anne Boleyn (he had not agreed with the annulment from Catherine) and for the king’s belief (as stated in the Act of Supremacy in 1534) that he was the head of the English Church. For this, More was brought up on charges of treason and was beheaded, later being both beatified and canonized in the Catholic Church. Guy, Thomas More, 2000. D.C.

Münster A town in the Westphalia region of Germany, Münster experienced an intense period of religious reformation during the 1530s. Originally under the jurisdiction of the Catholic bishop, the town—empowered by the impassioned Lutheran Bernard Rothmann, preacher at St. Lamberti Church—largely adopted Lutheran principles in 1531, effectively abolishing mass and monasticism within the city and instituting vernacular worship and a married clergy. 434

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 434

12/19/2000 10:09:10 AM

A Reformation ABC

By the spring of 1533, however, Rothmann’s conversion to Anabaptism and his embrace of Melchior Hoffmann’s chiliastic emphases had placed Münster along a more radical trajectory. Persecuted Anabaptists from northwest Germany and Holland, many familiar with Hoffmann’s messianic prophesies concerning Strasbourg, flocked to the city in search of a more charitable political climate. The entrance of Jan Matthijs, a Melchiorite and lay preacher, into the city helped overthrow the remaining Catholic and Lutheran constituencies. Early 1534 saw the Anabaptists gain control of the city council, install Rothmann’s merchant ally, Bernhard Knipperdolling, as mayor, and witness a mass emigration of those unsympathetic to their cause. Incited by this turn of events, Bishop von Waldeck, with the support of Philip of Hesse, besieged the city. Solidified out of necessity and by a sense of moral confrontation, Münster quickly devolved into a veritable dictatorship under Matthijs with Rothmann providing the scriptural warrant for the introduction of communism and strict censorship. Jan von Leyden, who succeeded Matthijs after he died in a skirmish, moved the city even further by eliminating the council altogether, proclaiming himself “King of New Zion,” and instituting polygamy. A coalition of Lutheran and Catholic forces under Hesse and the Catholic archbishop of Cologne inevitably took Münster in June 1535. Rothmann perished in the final battle, Leyden and Knipperdolling by execution. Anabaptists across Europe suffered increased persecution as a result of the rebellion despite their rejection of its extreme chiliasm. Arthur, The Tailor-King, 2000; Kerssenbrock, Narrative of the Anabaptist Madness, 2007. J.H.

Müntzer, Thomas (c. 1489/90–1525) German Anabaptist, leader of the 1525 Peasants’ War. Müntzer was educated at Leipzig and Frankfurt. In 1517/18, he studied at Wittenberg University, most likely with Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt. In 1519, he took a position in Thuringia and while there combined the medieval theology he had learned in Wittenberg with a more dynamic spiritualism that focused on the work of the Holy Spirit in the life of the individual and the church. This spiritualism also led Müntzer to focus on religious and social reform. In 1520, he sought to implement his reforming agenda in Zwickau. Later, he attempted to realize his reforms in Bohemia and then again in Allstedt in Thuringia. In July 1524, he sought to enlist John the Constant of Saxony in his social and religious reforms. Duke John demurred and Müntzer was subsequently banished from Allstedt. Rejected by the princes, Müntzer joined his cause to the burgeoning peasants’ revolts in Germany during the winter and spring of 1524/25. By the 435

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 435

12/19/2000 10:09:10 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

spring, he was the leader of the movement. He was captured following the defeat of the peasant army at the Battle of Frankenhausen (May 15, 1525). He was interrogated, tortured, and then executed on May 27, 1525. Friesen, Thomas Muentzer, a Destroyer of the Godless, 1990.

Music After the ornamentation, complex harmonization, and polyphony of late medieval choral music, the reformers of the sixteenth century focused on simplifying liturgical music so that the words could be understood and meditated upon. While still allowing harmonization and some Latin choral works, Luther’s great innovation was the introduction of the chorale—a vernacular hymn sung by the congregation as a whole. The Reformed tradition went further in its simplification. Zwingli and Bullinger completely rejected music in worship as unbiblical and distracting. The rest of the Reformed tradition followed Calvin, who insisted that the musical text be taken from the Bible (hence the emphasis on the Psalms), translated into the vernacular, and sung in unison by the congregation with no harmonization. Even Tridentine Catholic authorities expressed concern for the intelligibility of the words being sung. Although the cathedral choirs of Catholic Europe continued to sing musical settings of the mass in Latin with polyphony and harmonization, composers like Palestrina carefully controlled dissonance and limited ornamentation so as not to obscure the words. (This musical asceticism was soon abandoned by Venetian composers like Gabrieli and Monteverdi.) Elizabethan England was a musical hodgepodge. Elizabethan parish churches generally sang metrical Psalms in the manner of the Reformed tradition, while the choral offerings in English cathedrals remained elaborate. In general, all sixteenth-century reformers recognized the power of music, but they disagreed over the best way to harness this power and prevent it from becoming an impediment to worship. Calvin, “Preface to La Forme des prieres et chantz ecclesiastiques Genève (1542),” in Source Readings in Music History, ed. Strunk, 364–7; Hingman, “Music,” in The Reformation World, ed. Pettegree, 491–504. J.G.

Nantes, Edict of Actually refers to four separate documents that represent King Henry IV’s attempt to pacify France after years of civil war between Reformed Protestants (Huguenots) and Roman Catholics. Issued in April 1598, the edict created 436

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 436

12/19/2000 10:09:10 AM

A Reformation ABC

special courts for Huguenots and granted them full liberty of conscience, equal civil rights, access to all schools and universities, and eligibility for royal offices. The edict also allowed Huguenots to hold religious assemblies, and it temporarily ceded to them a number of fortified towns, protected by their own garrisons and funded by the crown. Yet the edict did not grant Huguenots full equality with Catholics. The edict restored Catholic worship to all regions in France, but it restricted Protestant worship to the homes of Protestant nobles and a limited number of towns where Protestant worship had been established in the past. Huguenots also had to pay an ecclesiastical tithe and were forbidden to work on Roman Catholic feast days and holidays. Contrary to myth, the edict was not a glorious proclamation of toleration. It had no underlying theological or philosophical justification. It was a temporary stop-gap designed to staunch the flow of blood from the wound of religious division, and Henri IV envisioned it as the first step towards the reestablishment of religious unity in France. Golden, ed., The Huguenot Connection: The Edict of Nantes, 1988; and Whelan and Baxter, eds, Toleration and Religious Identity: The Edict of Nantes, 2003. J.G.

Oecolampadius, Johannes (1482–1531) Born in 1482, under the name Johannes Huszgen, Oecolampadius would become one of the most significant figures of the Protestant Reformation. As a young man, Huszgen studied law at Bologna and theology at the schools of Heidelberg, Tubingen, and Basel. Heavily influenced by the humanism of his era, Huszgen would eventually change his last name to: Oecolampadius, which means: “shining light.” In his younger years, Oecolampadius would gravitate between ecclesiastical and academic positions; serving as pastor at Weinsberg and also as tutor to the sons of Elector Philippof the Palatinate. In 1515 Oecolampadius would move to Basel and aid the noted humanist, Desiderius Erasmus, in his writing of a Greek New Testament. Oecolampadius would eventually obtain his doctorate from Basel and, subsequently, be appointed as preacher at the cathedral in Augsburg. Though hesitant at the first signs of reformation, Oecolampadius would, eventually, become a chief proponent of reform. When asked his thoughts on Luther’s new vision for the church, he would reply: “Martin is closer to the evangelical truth than any of his opponents.” Though he would become an ally and supporter of Luther’s, Oecolampadius would break ranks with the Wittenburg reformer over the role and understanding of the Eucharist. While favoring the interpretation of Huldrych Zwingli over that of Luther, Oecolampadius would, none the less, maintain ties with both Luther and Melanchthon. Eventually, 437

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 437

12/19/2000 10:09:10 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Oecolampadius would return to Basel and would be largely responsible for that city’s protracted steps towards reformation. Oecolampadius died in 1531, just one month after Huldrych Zwingli. Rupp, Patterns of Reformation, 1969; Staehelin, Ernst, Oekolampad-Bibliographie, 1963. A.L.W.

Ordination In Roman Catholic theology, ordination is the sacramental act of instituting a baptized male Christian to act in the person of Christ, in persona Christi. Since the Patristic period, ordination was regularly broken down into three distinct offices: the deacon, the priest, and the bishop. Liturgically speaking, deacons were charged primarily with baptisms; since baptisms were undertaken in the nude, deaconesses (female deacons) were sometimes installed for the baptism of female candidates. Priests were charged most commonly with hearing confessions and saying the Mass, and bishops alone could ordain other priests and bishops. The meaning and use of ordination was much contested in the Reformation of the sixteenth century. Martin Luther, for instance, maintained that it did indeed confer on the recipient the ability to confect the Eucharist. Others held that there was no categorical difference between lay people and clergy (since all partake of Christ’s priesthood), but merely a different type of calling by the Holy Spirit. In such cases, ordination, in principle, refers only to the right-ordering of Christian worship; someone must, in fact, lead the assembly and those who are ordained are those confirmed by the community to do so. B.E.H.

Penance In Roman Catholic belief, penance, or satisfaction, is one of three constituent parts of the sacrament of Reconciliation, alongside contrition and confession. Contrition, or repentance, is sorrow for the sins that one has committed and follows in part as a gift of God’s grace. Confession is the actual speaking of one’s sins to an ordained priest or bishop. Penance consists of acts prescribed by the confessor to be done after the confession. These acts can be prayers or other activities, such as restitution for one’s previous sin. The purpose of or reasoning behind these acts consists in what is known as the temporal punishment due to sin. In contrition and confession, one is absolved from all eternal punishment due to sin; one is returned to a full state of justification and will 438

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 438

12/19/2000 10:09:10 AM

A Reformation ABC

be destined to heaven if no mortal sin intervenes before death. Penance, however, is concerned with those inclinations and habits that inhere in one’s soul in spite of one’s having been forgiven for all moral culpability. Unless penance is sincerely undertaken, the temporal punishment due to sin remains with one until death. At that point, Roman Catholics believe that before one can enter in before the thrice-Holy God, all these inclinations must be purged (hence Purgatory) from the soul. Indulgences are another way of purging this temporal punishment; they apply the treasury of merit in order that the abundance of good done by the Saints in heaven might be given to the supplicant. Tanner, “Teaching concerning the most holy sacraments of penance and last anointing,” in Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils Volume II Trent-Vatican II, 1990, 703–9; Luther, The Sacrament of Penance in LW 35; Rittgers, The Reformation of the Keys: Confession, Conscience, and Authority in Sixteenth-Century Germany, 2004. B.E.H.

Perseverance In Reformed Christianity, perseverance of the saints is one of the five canons of the Synod of Dordrecht held in 1618–1619. Commonly known as “TULIP” (Total depravity, unconditional election, limited atonement, irresistible grace, and perseverance of the saints), these five canons define much of later Reformed doctrine. Perseverance is the idea that the elect in Christ will be known by their adherence to the faith until their death. If an individual leaves the faith, the doctrine of perseverance holds that either the individual never had faith in the first place (that is, they were parodying their faith and were not in fact elect) or that the individual will later return to their faith (thus confirming their election). The principle of the doctrine is God’s sovereignty over the affairs of humanity; if God has chosen an individual to live with Him in eternity (or, conversely, if God has determined that an individual will suffer eternal damnation), nothing can be done to thwart that will. The elect cannot ultimately run from their faith, and those who imitate faith will ultimately be exposed as reprobate. Scott, The Articles of the Synod of Dort, 1856. B.E.H.

Paul III, Pope (1468–1549; r. 1534) Pope Paul III was born Allesandro Farnese in Canino, Italy. He was educated in Rome and Florence where he came to the attention of the Medicis. He was created a cardinal in 1493 by Alexander VI. He was elected pope in 1534 following the death of Clement VII. In many ways he typified the Renaissance papacy—he had 439

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 439

12/19/2000 10:09:10 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology four children and was a great commissioner of artwork, including Michelangelo’s Last Judgment—but he was also a decided reformer of ecclesiastical abuses. In 1540, he approved the foundation of the Jesuits. In 1542 he called for a general council and opened the Council of Trent in 1545.

Paul IV, Pope (1476–1559; r. 1555) Pope Paul IV was born Gian Pietro Carafa. He came from a prominent Neapolitan family. He served the papacy from an early age. In 1504, he was made Bishop of Chieti. He also helped found the Theatine Order. In 1520, he was a member of the commission organized to respond officially to Martin Luther. In 1536, he became the Archbishop of Naples and was created cardinal by Paul III in 1542. As cardinal, he played an important role in strengthening the authority of the Inquisition. His interest in the Inquisition and the creation of the Index of Forbidden Books often mark him as the first Counter-Reformation pope. Wright, The Counter-Reformation, 1982.

Philipp of Hesse (1504–67) Philipp was Landgrave of Hesse from 1509. Beginning in the mid-1520s, Philipp began to promote a Protestant alliance to counter the threat of the Habsburgs. Hesse allied with Saxony in 1524, forming the Torgau League, and slowly gathered together surrounding towns and principalities. However, political and confessional divides prevented the Lutheran party’s alliance with upper Germany and Switzerland. In response, Philipp arranged temporary alliances while working toward confessional unity by means of the Colloquy of Marburg (1529) and the Diet of Augsburg (1530). Alliance between Saxony and the upper Germans was finally formed in light of the Habsburg threat evinced in the Diet at Augsburg (1531), which led to the formation of the Schmalkaldic League. Philipp continued his endeavor for doctrinal unity, enlisting the aid of Martin Bucer, whose work led to the agreements at Württemberg (1534), Kassel (1534) and Wittenberg (1536). Not until Wittenberg did Luther finally accepted the upper Germans as co-religionists. At this point, Philipp attempted to ease strife by religious reform, supporting Charles V’s Protestant-Catholic dialogues in 1540–41. However, following the Schmalkaldic War, he was imprisoned by Charles V from 1547 to 1552. Cahill, Philipp of Hesse and the Reformation, 2001. J.H.H. 440

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 440

12/19/2000 10:09:10 AM

A Reformation ABC

Pole, Reginald (1500–58) English Roman Catholic cardinal and the last Catholic Archbishop of Canterbury. Pole descended from a royal family and studied at Oxford before eventually becoming a fellow of Corpus Christi College. He spent several years studying and living in France and Italy, where he studied at Padua and met many important theologians. While abroad, King Henry VIII entreated him to side with the king’s annulment from Catherine of Aragon in exchange for political favor, but Pole rebuffed Henry. Upon the death of Edward VI and the enthronement of his half-sister Mary I as queen in 1553, Pole returned to England. There he succeeded Thomas Cranmer, whom Mary burned at the stake, as Archbishop of Canterbury in 1556. Pole worked closely with the queen and was partly responsible for the many persecutions and executions of Protestants during her tenure. In fact, both Mary and Pole died on the same day, November 17, 1558, and many of their policies and acts would be overturned as both of their successors were Protestants, Elizabeth I and Matthew Parker, respectively. Mayer, Reginald Pole: Prince and Prophet, 2000. D.C.

Preaching The Christian tradition of including a sermon—spoken commentary on Scripture—during worship has its roots in the practices of the Jewish synagogues. In Luke 4.16–20, for instance, Jesus read from the prophet Isaiah and then began to comment upon that passage. Justin Martyr, a second-century Christian, described a similar practice in his First Apology. Many sermons remain from influential early church writers, including Ambrose, Augustine and John Chrysostom. The exclusive use of Latin in the Roman Rite, ritual focus on the Eucharist, and the uneven education of Medieval clergy contributed to a weakened emphasis on the sermon’s place in worship; nevertheless, preaching remained central in the Middle Ages, as seen in the rise of preaching offices and orders, especially the Dominicans and the Brethren of the Common Life (devotio moderna). Luther’s early reform of the Mass (1523) had the goal of putting God’s Word, including the sermon, at the center of worship. He shared this sentiment with Zwingli, who went even further in prioritizing the hearing and preaching of God’s Word over images and liturgical rituals. The Roman Catholic Council of Trent included reforms requiring bishops and priests to preach more regularly. Across the Reformation, emphasis was increasingly placed not on the mere act of preaching within worship but on the question of what kind of God and savior hearers would meet in the 441

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 441

12/19/2000 10:09:10 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

sermon. This need to train students to be good preachers and instructors gave rise to the modern denominational theological seminary. As much as confessional theology may have determined the content of sermons, Christians in the sixteenth century shared the belief that worshipers encounter the living Word of God through the sermon. Edwards, A History of Preaching, 2004; Rhegius, Preaching the Reformation: The Homiletical Handbook of Urbanus Rhegius, 2003. M.J.L.

Predestination Predestination is a Scriptural term (see esp. Acts 4 and Romans 8) indicating God’s plan for humanity as revealed in Christ. As such, the term is very often used synonymously with “election.” Christians in all eras of Church history have wrestled with this term, and people in the Reformation era were no exception. A great many reformers among evangelicals as well as Roman Catholics continued to champion elements of the Augustinian tradition. Luther treated predestination as a bulwark of grace against an overzealous faith in human capacity represented by Erasmus. Zwingli argued formally on grounds of God’s universal providence over all creation to its highest expression in a will to save human souls. Damnation was a final reality that almost all theologians of the period drew from Scripture, and yet by stressing the positive divine agency of predestination, the unsaved souls could be said to be “passed over” rather than positively consigned to their final judgment. Explicit worries that God would otherwise appear tyrannical frequently appear in literature of the Reformation period. Two contrasting alternatives to a notion of passive damnation arose in the works of Theodore Bibliander and John Calvin. Bibliander was a brilliant humanist and teacher in Zurich. He openly disliked arguments that became mired in predestination, especially with respect to murky matters of divine foreknowledge and foreordination of some or of others. He proposed that God’s saving will could embrace all humanity. Calvin likewise opposed the appearance of handwringing regarding the relationship of predestination to damnation. He argued strongly against those who imagined a God whose will could be said simply to allow errant humans to their own destiny while positively acting only to save the elect. Calvin argued that predestination does indeed involve God’s definitive plan for all humanity, but, quite unlike Bibliander’s theoretical universalism, Calvin argued that predestination involved both election of salvation and reprobation of damnation. See Election. J.W. 442

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 442

12/19/2000 10:09:10 AM

A Reformation ABC

Priesthood of Believers The notion of a “priesthood of all believers” inspired some of the earliest agenda of the Reformation. Reformers opposed a long held church tradition whereby priests were seen to receive unique, indelible character that set them apart from the laity. Reformers argued largely on the basis of the New Testament epistles of Hebrews and 1 Peter to assert that the only unique priesthood pertained to Christ, while the entire community of faith comprised a collective priesthood through participating in him. As early as 1523, Luther and Zwingli made similar arguments in this matter. A broad range of theological, social, and political ramifications quickly became apparent. Local communities often became more empowered in matters of church life and discipline, even to the theoretical extent of dismissing corrupt clergy and electing suitable ministers of their own. Priests in evangelical polities were furthermore stripped of their traditional immunities from civil laws and courts. The initial wave of Reformation optimism generally presumed that a Christendom-wide conversion would irrepressibly rise up from within the new priesthood of all believers and reform all levels of church and society. In the wake of Anabaptist confrontations, peasant uprisings, doctrinal disagreements, iconoclastic tumults, and the like, Reformation leaders—particularly of the magisterial variety—soon spent a great deal of energy redefining a less open-ended optimism. The priesthood of believers would always remain a Protestant hallmark to the exclusion of notions of clerical immunity or clerical indelible character, but a newly articulate emphasis on decency and order led to greater regulation in matters of ministerial ordination, ministerial duties, and the exercise of moral discipline. Innovative new strategies to express a priesthood of all believers did arise, however, as in the case of leadership by ordained lay elders in Calvin’s Geneva or in the case of elected lay members of Zurich’s morals-courts. Blickle and Kunisch, eds, Kommunalisierung und Christianisierung: Voraussetzungen und Folgen der Reformation, 1400 – 1600; Zeitschrift für historische Forschung, ed. Kunisch, Luig, Moraw, and Press, 1989; Gordon, Clerical Discipline and the Rural Reformation: The Synod in Zürich, 1532 – 1580, 1992; McKee, Elders and the Plural Ministry: The Role of Exegetical History in Illuminating John Calvin’s Theology, 1988. J.W.

Providence Notions of “providence” arise out of the theological assertion that “the Lord will provide” (cf. Genesis 22.14). In this perspective, God anticipates and “sees to” the needs of creation. Such a doctrine can be linked 443

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 443

12/19/2000 10:09:11 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

to soteriological discussions of predestination and election in the human community, but in principle it concerns the full scope of creation as upheld in every moment of its being. Providence is by no means an invention of the Reformation period, though thinkers in that era had much to say about it. Sixteenth-century Christians of almost any persuasion agreed that God was the sustaining source of the whole created order. Disagreements arose as to how this providential governance related to so-called second causes. How can human will, and its corollary of moral conduct, be maintained if everything stands under direct divine causality? In his zeal to reform a system that he perceived to have devolved into religious performances intended to influence God’s rule—often for personal, mundane benefit— the Zurich Reformer Huldrych Zwingli deliberately de-emphasized second causes. Zwingli’s application of providence with respect to Christian practices was fairly radical in comparison to medieval tradition. Where John Calvin treated providence in Book I of his Institutes, he took great care to preserve the reality of second causes. The natural world (including each act of human will) is not said to proceed under overriding necessity of a single causality, even though Zwingli had been correct to oppose the schema of cooperation between divine and human wills. Rather, the entire realm of created causality has integrity even while it operates within God’s governance of every last detail. As with most of Calvin’s theology, his intention was explicitly pastoral: to allay spiritual anxiety and motivate faithful conduct. God’s fatherly provision, he exhorted, would be trustworthily administered whether in and through human wills or despite them. The pastoral benefit arose not in quietist retreat but in active engagement in the world based on trust and praise. Largely on the basis of this doctrine, Reformed communities across Europe became renowned, and often infamous, for their zealous social action. Calvin, Institutes. J.W.

Resistance Theory Resistance theory is the justification for the right to oppose an unjust or ungodly ruler. Most early reformers like Luther and Calvin deemphasized the right of resistance and, following Romans 13:1–4, argued that God has established all authority. To use force against a legitimate ruler, however evil, was to resist God. Yet as monarchs began to persecute violently those who adhered to religious traditions contrary a region’s official religion, resistance to such rulers became a matter of survival for the persecuted faiths. Lutheran, Reformed, and Roman Catholic writers all justified violent resistance to a 444

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 444

12/19/2000 10:09:11 AM

A Reformation ABC

secular ruler at some point during the sixteenth century. The most common resistance theories were constitutional and secular. They claimed that a particular constitution or national law authorized a parliamentary body or a group of lesser magistrates to take steps to restrain or depose the offending ruler. These theories were often substantiated by examples of historical precedent. The more radical theories were religious. Reformed Protestants like John Knox and Christopher Goodman argued that God’s commands in the Pentateuch to eradicate idolaters justified violent action against Roman Catholic rulers, for to them Roman Catholicism was idolatry. The members of the French Catholic League similarly declared that God never granted authority to heretics, so heretical rulers were illegitimate and could be justly assassinated. Whereas constitutional theories generally restricted the role of private persons, only allowing them to disobey ungodly commands, religious resistance theories sometimes authorized private persons to take militant action against ungodly rulers. Resistance theories arose not because Catholic, Lutheran, or Reformed theology was intrinsically rebellious, but because in certain historical circumstances resistance to the state often appeared as the best—even the only—way to promote one’s religion. Benedict, Marnef, van Nierop, and Venard, eds, Reformation, Revolt, and Civil War in France and the Netherlands, 1555–1585, 1999; Franklin, ed., Constitutionalism in the Sixteenth Century and Resistance: Three Treatises by Hotman, Beza, and Mornay, 1969; Skinner, The Age of Reformation, vol. 2 of The Foundations of Modern Political Thought, 1978. J.G.

Reuchlin, Johann (1455–1522) Johann Reuchlin was born at Pforzheim in the Black Forest region and educated at the local monastery school. After a brief period at the University of Freiburg, Reuchlin continued his studies at the universities of Paris and Basel, taking his master’s degree in 1477. He also received a law degree from the University of Orleans. Although accomplished in both Greek and Latin, Reuchlin’s most significant achievements lay in his contributions to Hebraic studies. In 1490, Reuchlin met the Italian humanist Pico della Mirandola (1463–94) at Florence, which inspired him to perfect his knowledge of Hebrew. As Reuchlin’s expertise in Hebrew developed, he became convinced that proficiency in this language, rather than sole reliance upon the Vulgate, was essential to understanding the Bible. Moreover the key to understanding biblical Hebrew lay in Jewish grammatical and exegetical tradition as exemplified in the work of medieval rabbis such as David Kimchi. This conviction led to the production in 1506 of his De rudimentis hebraicis, 445

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 445

12/19/2000 10:09:11 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

a Hebrew grammar and dictionary based largely on Kimchi’s principles. Also, Reuchlin edited a text of the penitential psalms in 1512 and published in 1518 De accentibus et orthographia linguae hebraicae, a work dealing with pronunciation, accents, and synagogue music. Reuchlin defended the use of Hebrew scholarship in his 1510 controversy with Johann Pfefferkorn, a Jewish convert to Christianity who, along with the Dominicans, sought the destruction of all Hebrew books. Reuchlin also worked extensively on the Jewish Cabbalah. Rummel, The Case against Johann Reuchlin: Religious and Social Controversy in Sixteenth-Century Germany, 2002. A.G.

Sacrifice Although Martin Luther’s 1519 address on the mass did not raise the issue of sacrifice, by his 1520 Treatise on the New Testament That Is the Holy Mass, Luther articulated the mass as Christ’s testament rather than a priestly sacrifice. His Prelude on the Babylonian Captivity of the Church, also written in 1520, further stated that one of the three captivities of the Roman church was the interpretation of the mass as a good work and a sacrifice; and that this understanding was what resulted in the selling of masses. Luther contended that the priest cannot offer Christ’s sacrifice; the only sacrifice which the priest can offer is putting to death the deeds of the body. Since this sacrifice is incumbent upon all Christians, Luther stated that we are all priests. This rejection of priestly sacrifice became a hallmark of the Reformers a good number of whom joined Luther in understanding the people’s dedication to the Lord as the sacrifice which could be given in the sacrament. Some however, parted with Luther regarding the presence of Christ in the Supper. Some of these Reformers promulgated the view that believers remember Christ, rather than Christ being present, in the Supper. In a flurry of writings between 1525 and 1527, Luther contended that this latest error was worse than that of the papists since the papists had at least believed in the presence of Christ. The Roman Church reaffirmed the transubstantiation through which it held this presence to take place at the 1551 Council of Trent. By 1562, the Council also reaffirmed the sacrificial nature of the mass, while stating that the agent of the sacrifice in the mass was Christ and the sacrifice itself was Christ’s single sacrifice, rather than a repetition of that sacrifice. Luther, “Babylonian Captivity of the Church,” LW 3: 3–127. B.H.G.

446

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 446

12/19/2000 10:09:11 AM

A Reformation ABC

Sadoleto, Jacopo (1477–1547) Scholar, humanist, and respected Roman Catholic Cardinal who encouraged reform to address the Protestant challenge and restore the Catholic Church. Sadoleto wrote a letter in March 1539 to the leaders and citizens of Geneva, urging them to return from Protestantism. John Calvin penned a response in August 1539. These letters represent one of the most notable CatholicProtestant exchanges of the Reformation. Sadoleto stresses the historical authority of the Roman Catholic Church and its unerring guidance by the Holy Spirit, argues that justification by faith must not exclude works, and encourages the unity and peace of the Church, criticizing the Reformers as “seeking dissension and novelty.” Calvin’s passionate response claims the Reformers are trying to return to the early Church. He subordinates the authority of the Church to that of Scripture, and provides an extensive defense of justification by faith alone. Sadoleto’s letter sought to capitalize on the existing political and ecclesial unrest in Geneva. Calvin and fellow Reformer Guillaume Farel had been ousted from leadership of the Genevan church in 1538 over disagreements with civil authorities concerning ecclesial discipline and liturgical practices. However, responding to Sadoleto’s letter was a catalyst for Calvin’s return to church leadership in Geneva in 1541. Calvin and Sadoleto, A Reformation Debate, With an Appendix on the Justification Controversy, 1966. L.D.

Sattler, Michael (c. 1490–1527) Anabaptist theologian, born near Freiburg, Germany, c. 1490 and martyred outside Rottenburg in late May 1527. Onetime Benedictine prior at St. Peter’s in the Black Forest, he joined the Swiss Anabaptist movement in 1525 after becoming frustrated with the hypocrisy of his fellow monks. Though not highly educated, Sattler’s linguistic ability, theological acumen, and irenic nature inevitably placed him in a position of authority among sympathetic reformers around Horb and Rottenburg, even endearing him to the likes of Martin Bucer and Wolfgang Capito. As the primary author of the “Schleitheim Confession,” Anabaptism’s first formal theological statement, Sattler played a foundational role in the early development of the movement in Switzerland and southern Germany. The confession rejected the baptism of infants and adopted instead the (re-) baptism of adults who professed and exhibited a personal faith. Other topics of interest in the confession included the Lord’s Supper, the taking of oaths, the sword, and the creation of voluntary communities separated from the world. The story of Sattler’s dramatic trial, torture,

447

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 447

12/19/2000 10:09:11 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

and execution at the hands of Austrian Catholic authorities in 1527 fueled as much as discouraged Anabaptist tenacity, especially in light of his ironic insistence on nonresistance. Snyder, The Life and Thought of Michael Sattler, 1984. J.H.

Schleitheim Confession of Faith Originally The Brotherly Union of a Number of Children of God Concerning Seven Articles, this 1527 document was named after the small Swiss border town in which it was adopted by Swiss and German Anabaptists. Rather than providing a full confession of faith, its articles clarify a strain of Anabaptist faith. Michael Sattler, former Benedictine monk and eventual martyr, is traditionally viewed as its primary author. Baptism, given primary place in the articles, is for those “who have learned repentance and amendment of life,” not infants as in Roman, Lutheran and Reformed practice. Communion participants shall be “united beforehand by baptism in one body of Christ.” The Articles’ adherents were to avoid both popish and antipopish (i.e., Lutheran) works and services, as well as civic affairs, not taking oaths or serving as magistrates. Since the sword is for those outside of the godly community, “the ban,” was to be employed for those who have fallen into error and sin. Translated from the original German into French and Dutch, the Articles were also incorporated into the Hutterites’ foundational documents. Widely circulated, the articles garnered refutations from Ulrich Zwingli and John Calvin. Williams, Radical Reformation, 1992. B.H.G.

Schmalkald Articles (1538) The Schmalkald Articles were written and published by Martin Luther in 1538. They present a view of Luther’s mature theological position and his criticism of the Catholic Church. The Articles were adopted into the Book of Concord of 1580, and continue to express Lutheran theological emphases into the present day. The immediate provocation of the Articles was Pope Paul III’s call for a general council in 1536. John Frederick, Elector of Saxony, commissioned Luther to produce a document that would serve as representative of the Schmalkaldic League’s response to the council. As the council was delayed, the Articles were never brought before the League. They were, however, circulated amongst its members. Albeit never formally accepted by 448

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 448

12/19/2000 10:09:11 AM

A Reformation ABC

the Schmalkaldic League, they were accepted by many of its representative theologians, manifest in the appended list of subscriptions which include forty-three signatures, including Philip Melanchthon’s (albeit his signature was qualified). The document was highly celebrated and supported by John Frederick of Saxony. The text itself is divided into three parts. The four articles of the first part treat the points of unity amongst Protestant and Catholic theology. The second part opens with the “First and Chief Article,” wherein Luther defines his understanding of the Gospel, specifically as it pertains to Christ and faith. This article is followed by three which serve as points of criticism of the Catholic church of his day: on Mass, chapters and monasteries, and the papacy. The third part (15 articles) treats a series topical concerns arising from the first and second parts. Luther, The Schmalkald Articles, trans. 1995. J.H.H.

Schmalkaldic League The Schmalkaldic League (1531–47) was a German Protestant federation, founded by Elector John Frederick of Saxony and Landgrave Philipp of Hesse, together with several northern principalities and northern and southern cities. The immediate impetus for the League’s formation was the Diet of Augsburg and the growing fear of Habsburg action against the “protesting estates.” The resulting alliance was formed for the defense of religion, specifically Protestantism. Leadership of the League alternated between the Saxon elector and Hessian landgrave. The League’s political and military enterprises were mostly of mixed results. While it managed to suspend the Imperial Chamber Court from 1543 to 1548, and successfully invaded the Duchy of Braunschwieg-Wolfenbüttel in 1542, the League was more generally marked by the disunity it bore due to, among other issues, the theological disagreements between upper and lower German Protestants. Haug-Moritz, Der Schmalkaldische Bund, 2002. J.H.H.

Schmalkaldic War The Schmalkaldic War, between the German Protestant princes of the Schmalkaldic League and the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, began in July 1546 due to the conditions under which the Diet of Regensberg was convened, which the League deemed unacceptable. Charles retreated from Regensburg, and proceeded to outmaneuver and exhaust the Protestant forces while gaining 449

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 449

12/19/2000 10:09:11 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

reinforcements. Following the winter, Charles attacked John Frederick, Elector of Saxony, and slaughtered the Protestant infantry at the Battle of Mühlberg (April 1547). As a result, the Protestant resistance collapsed, John Frederick and Philipp of Hesse were imprisoned, and the League dissolved. However, by the time Charles dissolved the League, the Reformation had advanced too far to be turned back, and he was left with no other choice than to pursue ecclesiastical and political compromise to restore peace to the Holy Roman Empire. In this regard, the League was a success. Rein, Chancery of God, 2008. J.H.H.

Scots Confession In 1560, following the English recognition of Scots sovereignty, Scotland’s Parliament declared the country Protestant. At the request of Parliament, John Knox and five other ministers framed a confession of faith and wrote its companion volume, The First Book of Discipline. The Confession, written in 4 days, was ratified as “doctrine grounded upon the infallible Word of God.” The preface invites readers to point out any deviation from Scripture to its authors in writing. The Confession echoes Calvin’s concerns for the omnipotence of God; humanity’s inability to do good without God’s assistance; the necessity of the two natures of Christ; and the Spirit of God’s role in inspiring faith as well as in confirming and interpreting Scripture. Many sections of the Confession end by refuting the Roman church’s arrogation of its councils, priests and practices in place of honoring and depending upon the work of God and the teachings of Scripture. The Confession emphasizes the Kirk (church) of the present and the future as continuous with the past work of God among the people of God from the age of Adam onward. The true and faithful Kirk is known by three marks: “the true preaching of the Word of God,” “the right administration of the sacraments” and “ecclesiastical discipline . . . whereby vice is repressed and virtue nourished.” The confession also honors the civil government and sees it as having a positive role in upholding religion as well as in maintaining the social order. The Scots Confession was re-subscribed by those signing the Negative Confession/Second Scots Confession (1580); and the National Covenant, affirmed from 1638 to 1733. The Scots Confession was superseded, but not abrogated, by the Westminster Confession in 1647. Scots Confession, 1560 and Negative Confession, 1581 with introduction by G. D. Henderson, 1937. B.H.G. 450

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 450

12/19/2000 10:09:11 AM

A Reformation ABC

Servetus, Michael (1509/1511–53) Michael Servetus was a Spanish theologian and physician. Condemned and executed for heresy. Servetus’ heretical beliefs included arguing against Trinitarian doctrine for lacking explicit biblical support, denying the Son is eternal, rejecting infant baptism, and holding a pantheistic conception of God’s immanence. Servetus left Basel for Strassburg in 1530, after his beliefs were rejected by Oecolampadius. He wrote against Trinitarianism in 1531 in De Trinitatis Erroribus, which was refuted by Bucer and banned. Continuing his antitrinitarian arguments in 1532 in Dialogorum de Trinitas, his works were condemned by Protestants, Catholics, and humanists alike. Servetus took on the alias of Michel de Villenueve and travelled to France, where he wrote his most significant work, Christianismi Restitutio. Early in 1553, Catholics, using correspondence from Servetus to Calvin, condemned Servetus to death, but he escaped. Later that year he was arrested in Geneva, and was burned at the stake. Servetus’ execution is noteworthy because the ensuing controversy marked a sharp upturn in Protestant calls for toleration. Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio and Other Writings, 1989; Bainton, Hunted Heretic: The Life and Death of Michael Servetus, 1511–1553, 1953. L.D.

Simons, Menno (c. 1495–1561) Menno Simons was an Anabaptist leader and theologian, born in Witmarsum, Friesland and died in Wüdstenfelde. One of the most important figures in sixteenth-century Anabaptism, Menno had received formal instruction in theology and served as a Catholic priest until his reading of Martin Luther caused him to doubt both the real presence of Christ in the Eucharistic elements and the viability of infant baptism. Menno interpreted the Münster rebellion with its extreme chiliasm and use of the sword as a stain upon Christianity. In January of 1536, he thus renounced his parish ministry, was rebaptized, and began to teach openly Anabaptist principles, intent on protecting the movement against other such debacles. Menno became in 1537 the leader and itinerate preacher of a moderate group of Anabaptists who had separated from those at Münster and sought refuge in the Netherlands and northern Germany. Over the next two decades, he published a steady stream of theological and devotional tracts, most notably a summary of his beliefs, Dat Fundament des Christelycken leers, which went to print in 1540. His teachings focused on directing the Dutch and North German Anabaptists away from the millenarian violence of Münster and Melchior Hoffmann and toward the 451

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 451

12/19/2000 10:09:11 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

biblicism of their Swiss and South German brethren. Though he maintained a subdued eschatology, Menno focused on instilling a rigorous moral and communal discipline. To ensure such discipline and the promise of a pure church, he implemented a version of the ban which superseded even marital relations. Intense debates concerning this interpretation of the ban resulted in divisions among the various Anabaptist communities. By the time of his death, however, Menno had so successfully consolidated the disheartened Anabaptists left in the wake of Münster into a community determined to live peaceful and godly lives that they began to call themselves “Mennonites,” a title still born today. Wenger, ed., The Complete Writings of Menno Simons 1956; Brunk, ed., Menno Simons: A Reappraisal, 1992; Voolstra, Menno Simons: His Image and Message, 1997; Krahn, Dutch Anabaptism, 2004. J.H.

St Bartholomew’s Day Massacre St Bartholomew’s Day Massacre began on 23 August 1572 in Paris and continued for days in Paris and weeks outside the city. The origins of the massacre begin with the marriage of the Protestant King Henri of Navarre and the Catholic princess Margaret of Valois, daughter of King Henri II of France in Paris. The marriage was intended to help heal religious discord in France. Instead, religious tensions were incredibly heightened in the city. The massacre was sparked by the attempted assassination of the Protestant Huguenot leader Admiral Gaspard de Coligny. The initial attempt by the Duke of Guise failed, but Coligny was later dragged from his bed and murdered in the streets by the duke’s men. Incited by this violence, mobs turned their violent attentions on Protestants or those thought to be Protestant. Estimates for the number of dead vary widely from 3,000 to 30,000. Diefendorf, Beneath the Cross, 1991; Holt, French Wars of Religion, 1995.

Staupitz, Johann von (d. 1524) Johann von Staupitz was born into a noble Saxon family in the 1460s. He attended university in Cologne and Leipzig; in Munich he took monastic vows into the Augustinian Order. Staupitz earned a doctorate in Tübingen, where he also served as prior. In 1502 Elector Frederick the Wise made Staupitz the first dean of the theological faculty at the University of Wittenberg. The following year, he was also promoted to vicar general of the Augustinian

452

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 452

12/19/2000 10:09:11 AM

A Reformation ABC

Observants in Germany. As supervisor of the region, Staupitz met Martin Luther in Erfurt. With respect to Luther’s Anfechtungen (spiritual struggles and temptations), Staupitz counseled him to turn to God’s mercy in Christ. Staupitz also nurtured Luther’s academic gifts, first by assigning him the task of memorizing the entire Bible and later by encouraging his further studies in theology. When he stepped down from his faculty chair in 1512, Luther took his place as professor of biblical theology. Staupitz was in Augsburg for Luther’s 1518 meeting with Cardinal Cajetan, releasing Luther from his vows of obedience when it appeared that Luther might be ordered into custody. As vicar general of the order, Staupitz worked for institutional and educational reforms; as an academic and a preacher, he strove to present a biblical theology rooted in Paul and Augustine and emphasizing God’s intimate connection with believers through Christ. When Staupitz was pressed to renounce Lutheran beliefs in 1520, he denied having ever held such positions and pledged obedience to the pope. While some have interpreted this as a break with Luther, others see in it an authentic and consistent desire to continue working for reform within the institutional church. In 1520 Staupitz moved to Salzburg; in 1522 he was elected abbot of St Peter’s Benedictine monastery. He died in Salzburg. Posset, The Front-runner of the Catholic Reformation: The Life and Works of Johann von Staupitz, 2003; Steinmetz, Luther and Staupitz: An Essay in the Intellectual Origins of the Protestant Reformation, 1980. M.J.L.

Thirty-Nine Articles The defining statements and articles of faith in the Church of England (or Anglicanism). The Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion went through several stages. Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, first composed the Ten Articles in 1536 and later composed the Forty-Two Articles in 1552. The Thirty-Nine Articles were finalized in 1571, being published in both Latin and English, and were intended to summarize the official doctrine of the Church of England, especially in relation to Catholicism on the one hand and Protestantism on the other. The Articles are divided into four sections: Articles 1–8 deal with the Christian faith, namely, the nature of God, the Scriptures, and the ecumenical creeds; Articles 9–18 deal with personal religion, namely, justification and predestination; Articles 19–31 deal with corporate religion, namely, tradition, the sacraments, and worship; Articles 32–39 deal with various topics relating to excommunication, clerical celibacy, and oaths. The Articles, which were soon incorporated into the Book of Common Prayer and

453

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 453

12/19/2000 10:09:11 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

made legally binding in 1571, offer a clear middle way between Catholicism and extreme Protestantism. Bray, ed., Documents of the English Reformation, 2004; and MacCulloch, Thomas Cranmer, 1998. D.C.

Transubstantiation The name given to the Roman Catholic teaching stating that the substance of the Eucharistic bread and wine is changed into Christ’s body and blood after being consecrated by the priest via the verba Christi, even though the qualities of the Eucharistic elements perceptible to the senses remain unchanged. The Protestant Reformers all denied transubstantiation, although they disagreed about Christ’s sacramental presence in the elements. Luther held that Christ is present to believers “in, with, and under” the bread and wine. Calvin taught that “in the Supper [Christ] exhibits his presence in a special manner,” and that the faithful partake of Christ spiritually. Zwingli maintained that the bread and wine “signify” Christ’s body and blood. In 1551, the Council of Trent in its first major decree referred to these challenges as “inventions devised by impious men,” and reaffirmed the doctrine of transubstantiation: “the holy council teaches and openly and plainly professes that after the consecration of bread and wine, our Lord Jesus Christ . . . is truly, really and substantially contained in the august sacrament . . . under the appearance of those sensible things.” The decree asserted that this change of the elements into Christ’s body and blood is “properly and appropriately called transubstantiation.” One of the earliest expressions of transubstantiation was made in 1063 by the monk Lanfranc in response to controversial teachings about the Eucharistic elements by Berengar of Tours, where Lanfranc argued that the elements are changed incomprehensibly into Christ’s body and blood. In 1215, the Fourth Lateran Council declared that Christ’s “Body and Blood are truly contained . . . under the appearance of bread and wine,” because the elements were “transubstantiated.” Using Aristotelian metaphysics, Aquinas developed the doctrine further by explaining that the elements’ substance is replaced by the substance of Christ’s body and blood at the consecratory words, while the elements’ accidents, or qualities perceptible to the senses, are unaltered. Schroeder, Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, Original Text with English Translations, 1941; Mitchell, “Reforms, Protestant and Catholic” and Thibodeau, “Western Christendom,” in The Oxford History of Christian Worship, eds, Wainwright and Tucker, 2006. L.D. 454

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 454

12/19/2000 10:09:12 AM

A Reformation ABC

Treasury of Merit The treasury of merit is an aspect of Roman Catholic theology closely connected with the controversies concerning penance and indulgences in the sixteenth century. In certain models of the atonement in Catholic theology, Christ earned an infinite reward (or merit) because of the death that he endured in satisfaction for the sins of humanity. The saints come to participate in that merit by means of the grace of Christ given to them during their earthly life (merit is thus technically and inseparably a gift of grace). If these merits outweigh their sins at the time of their death, they are said to have an abundance of merit, which can then be applied to other supplicants striving after heaven in the form of intercession or of indulgences. The combined merits of Christ and the saints is what is known as the treasury of merit and it is to this treasury that the Roman Catholic Church, in its sale of indulgences in the fifteenth century and following, claimed to have unique and complete access. Martin Luther contested this system beginning with his 95 Theses displayed in Wittenberg on October 31, 1517. B.E.H.

Trent, Council of A general council of the Roman Catholic church that met from December 1545 to March 1547, May 1551 to April 1552, and January 1562 to December 1563. In addition to reforming abuses within the church by strengthening the jurisdiction of bishops and setting up new clerical standards in education, morality, and residence, the council rejected Protestant theology and defined Roman Catholic doctrine. The council declared that unwritten traditions were of as much authority as Scripture. The council admitted that God’s grace was the beginning of an individual’s justification, but then asserted that grace was not irresistible and individuals must cooperate with grace by assenting to it with their free wills. Similarly, although justification was by faith, faith could not be divorced from charity, so good works were not merely the fruits of justification but integral in its process, increasing an individual’s justification and meriting eternal life. The council also stated that there were seven sacraments, and that the sacraments conferred grace upon a recipient. It reiterated that the mass was a propitiatory sacrifice offered for the sins, satisfactions, and punishments of the living and the dead, and that the elements were transubstantiated into the body and blood of Christ in the mass. Baptism and penance (after the commission of any mortal sin) were declared necessary for salvation, and the practice of infant baptism and all three stages of penance (contrition, confession, and satisfaction) were upheld. Finally, the council 455

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 455

12/19/2000 10:09:12 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

rejected the notion of the priesthood of all believers and approved of purgatory. In sum, the council defined Roman Catholic doctrine in terms that clearly precluded Protestantism. Jedin, A History of the Council of Trent, 1957; Schroeder, Canons and the Decrees of the Council of Trent, 1941. J.G.

Tyndale, William (1494–1536) Born in Gloucestershire, Tyndale studied at Magdalen Hall, Oxford, and received his BA in 1512 and MA in 1515. Using Erasmus’ printed Greek text, he began translating the New Testament into English. This was considered illegal and heretical because it was unauthorized. After he failed to obtain patronage for his project from Cuthbert Tunstall, the Bishop of London, Tyndale departed for Germany in 1524. In 1526, he printed the first edition of his English New Testament from Worms. The New Testament was smuggled into England, where church authorities denounced the work and ordered copies to be seized and burned. From Antwerp, Tyndale published his translation of the Pentateuch in 1530 and his revised edition of the New Testament in 1534. By 1535, Tyndale finished his translation of the Old Testament historical books. In May of that year, Tyndale was arrested and imprisoned in Belgium. After 16 months of interrogation, Tyndale was condemned as a heretic and defrocked. He was strangled and burned on October 6, 1536. Tyndale’s importance to the English Reformation lays in his biblical translations and polemical works. His translation of the New Testament and portions of the Old were included in the Authorized (King James) Version of 1611 with only slight modifications. Among Tyndale’s other works the most important are his Parable of the Wicked Mammon, an exposition of the New Testament teaching concerning the superiority of faith to works, and The Obedience of a Christian Man. The Obedience sets forth a biblical doctrine of authority. God’s law of obedience applies to every member of society according to his/her station. It especially applies to civil rulers who bear the responsibility of enforcing God’s commandments. As God’s minister to the commonwealth, the king is to be unconditionally obeyed. Throughout the work, Tyndale criticizes various practices of the Roman church which circumvent this requirement for obedience. The Obedience closes with an explanation of Tyndale’s hermeneutical method: the primacy of the literal sense. Tyndale, The Obedience of a Christian Man, 2000; Daniell, William Tyndale: A Biography, 1994. A.G. 456

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 456

12/19/2000 10:09:12 AM

A Reformation ABC

Uses of the Law Luther spoke of Christ abolishing the law by superseding the ministry of Moses, but he also spoke of the spiritual and civil uses of God’s law. The spiritual use of the law accuses the sinner and reveals his need for the Gospel, while the civil use restrains evildoers. Melanchthon expanded the uses of the law to three in his 1535 Loci communes, identifying the first use as civil, which disciplines all people under the state, the second as accusatory, which condemns all people under God, and the third as teacher of Christian obedience. Calvin followed Melanchthon’s threefold structure but differed with him and Luther over the chief use of the law. Luther spoke of the spiritual use as the chief use of the law, but Calvin identified the third use as primary, because it instructs the Christian in a life that pleases God. While Luther did not talk about a third use of the law, he did recognize the teaching function in his Lectures on Galatians: “Then follow exhortations, in order to stir up those who are already justified . . . so that they may . . . exercise love by good works” (LW 33, 150). The Lutheran and Reformed traditions followed the threefold use of the law, but, like Luther and Calvin, differed as to the chief use. The Reformed emphasized the address nature of the law and the life of good works that it prescribed as the norm of the Christian life. Lutherans however, saw repentance as the norm of the Christian life, because the law always accuses and Christian good works are still imperfect. Elert, Law and Gospel, 1967. M.H.

Vermigli, Peter Martyr (1499–1562) Vermigli was born in Florence and entered the Augustinian Order in 1516. He studied at the University of Padua where he graduated with the degree of D.D. in 1526. While serving as prior of S. Piero ad Aram in Naples (1537–40), he joined the evangelical circle of Juan de Valdés. In 1541 Vermigli was appointed prior of S. Frediano at Lucca where established an academy. There, Vermigli expounded on Reformed doctrine until he was summoned by the Inquisition. To escape, Vermigli fled Italy in 1542. For the next 20 years, Vermigli participated in the Reform in Strasbourg (1542–7; 1553–6), England (where he served as Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford from 1547–53), and Zurich (1556–62). He worked closely with Archbishop Thomas Cranmer, Martin Bucer, and Heinrich Bullinger. Towards the end of his life, Vermigli participated in the Conference at Poissy in 1561 with Theodore Beza on behalf of the Huguenot cause. He died in Zurich in 1562. Vermigli’s writings consist of biblical commentaries, including on Genesis, Judges, Samuel, Kings, Lamentations, Romans, and 1 Corinthians, and polemical works. These 457

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 457

12/19/2000 10:09:12 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

respond to Catholic and Lutheran opponents concerning such issues as vows, celibacy, the ubiquity of Christ’s body, and the nature of the Eucharistic presence. Vermigli exerted influence upon his close friend and protégé, the English apologist John Jewel, as well as the composers of the Heidelberg Catechism, and on Puritanism. Furthermore, Vermigli stands as one of the theologians marking the transition into Protestant Scholasticism. James, ed., Peter Martyr Vermigli and the European Reformations: Semper Reformanda, 2004; James, Donnelly, and McClelland, eds, The Peter Martyr Reader, 1999; McClelland, Peter Martyr Vermigli and Italian Reform, 1980. A.G.

Via Antiqua The designation given to the medieval scholastic school associated with Thomas Aquinas (1224–74) and Duns Scotus (1265–1308). Thomas held a position known as realism, which taught that abstract concepts like “humanity” exist prior to individual human beings. “Humanity” is the universal nature or essence conceived in the mind of God, and individual human beings are the particular expressions of humanity. Scotus held a position known as moderate realism, which taught that “humanity” exists not prior to but in particular human beings. Scotus was a forerunner to the via moderna teaching of nominalism, which would influence Luther and the Reformation. The via antiqua sought to demonstrate the rationality of theology by identifying the main biblical topics (loci) and outlining them by posing a question (questio), an antithesis or objection (disputatio), and a synthesis or conclusion (respondeo). This approach influenced the rhetoric of Reformation theology and is seen in Melanchthon’s Loci communes, Calvin’s Institutes, and in the theological works of their followers in the late Reformation. Beginning with Luther, the Reformation would also be critical of via antiqua scholasticism, for its tendency to import philosophy into theology, speculate beyond the text of Scripture, and give primacy to the mind over the will and affections in human nature. Grane, “Luther and Scholasticism,” in Luther and Learning: The Wittenberg University Luther Symposium, 1985, 52–68; Oberman, “Via antiqua and via moderna: Late Medieval Prolegomena to Early Reformation Thought,” in From Ockham to Wycliffe, 1987. M.H.

Via Moderna The designation given to the medieval scholastic school associated with William of Ockham (1280–1349). Ockham argued against Thomas and Scotus 458

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 458

12/19/2000 10:09:12 AM

A Reformation ABC

that universals are only names for common qualities shared by particular objects. A universal does not exist prior to particular things, or in them, but only after them. The universals or common qualities are observed by the senses and then abstracted by the mind and used as grouping categories. Thus, there is no such thing as “humanity” but only common qualities that we call “human.” The philosophy of the via moderna is called “nominalism,” because of its reduction of universals to mere names. Nominalism focuses on the particulars of experience and is often credited with the development of the empirical sciences and textual studies associated with the Renaissance and later the Enlightenment. The via moderna gave primacy to the will over the mind, saying that something is good not because it conforms to a previous order in God’s mind, but simply because God willed it. This means that God could have willed differently than he did, and that alternative order would have corresponded to the Good. According to Ockham, God is free from all merely human conceptions of him, and reason cannot determine anything about God apart from revelation. This approach directly influenced Luther who maintained God’s freedom over his creation apart from rational speculations. Oberman, The Harvest of Medieval Theology: Gabriel Biel and Late Medieval Nominalism, 1963. M.H.

Visitation A visitation is a review of a church, monastery, or other ecclesiastical organization by diocesan officials. Visitation reviews often focused on the fiscal, moral, and professional health of the organization and the clergy of the foundation. During the Reformation, visitations became an effective device for ensuring religious purity among both Protestants and Roman Catholics. Protestant visitations first began in 1527 in Saxony. Visitations were used by agents of Henry VIII to suppress many monastic communities in England. Luther, Instructions for Visitors of Parish Pastors in Electoral Saxony, LW 40: 263–320.

Wars of Religion A series of eight wars spanning from 1562 to 1598, which involved, with regards to religion, the Huguenots (French Calvinists) and French Catholics (in its later phases, the Catholic League). Politically, the French Wars of Religion can be viewed as the struggle for leadership of France between the houses of 459

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 459

12/19/2000 10:09:12 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Bourbon, Valois, Guise, and Montmorency. Following the death of Francis II in 1560, Catherine de Médicis, regent of France for her son Charles IX, set forth an edict of toleration in 1562 in spite of Catholic resistance. On effect of the edict was the massacre of a Calvinist congregation in Wassy, which sparked the first of eight civil wars that would mark the latter half of the sixteenth century. The first three wars (1562–3; 1567–8; 1568–70) saw the Huguenots formulate an argument for constitutional resistance as well as the death of the first generation of leaders (Antoine of Navarre, Francis of Guise, Louis I of Condé). All three left sons (all named Henry) who would lead the various parties in the wars which followed. Six days after the wedding of Henry of Navarre to Catherine de Médici’s daughter, Marguerite, most of the Protestant wedding guests were slaughtered in the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre (August 24, 1562). The massacre spread, and eventually led to a series of Battles until the peace of La Rochelle (1572). The event inspired the most radical Huguenot arguments for resistance. A group of moderate Catholics (the politiques) conspired with the Huguenots against the Catholic government. These newfound allies, further supported by a German army, won the favorable Peace of Monsieur (1576). In response, the House of Guise encouraged the formation of the Catholic League in order to rescind the Peace of Monsieur. Through their dominance of the Estates-General of Blois, they committed Henry to war once again. Two wars followed in the next 4 years. The eighth and final war, dubbed “the war of the three Henrys” (1588) followed upon the death of the Duke of Anjou, Henry III’s younger brother, which left the Huguenot leader Henry of Navarre next in line of succession. By 1589, both Henry of Guise and Henry III were assassinated, and Henry IV (Navarre) was installed. By the Edict of Nantes in 1598, he had eliminated the threat of the lingering Catholic League to bring a final end to the Wars of Religion. Holt, The French Wars of Religion, 1562–1629, 2005. J.H.H.

Witchcraft Witchcraft and its close cousin sorcery both can be defined as the invocation of demonic powers to affect earthly events. The prosecution of suspected witches increased markedly in the centuries before the Reformation and was closely connected to concerns about heresy. In the late fifteenth century, two German officials in the Inquisition published detailed instructions for prosecuting witches called the Malleus Maleficarum, or The Hammer of Witches. This book was notable for its vivid descriptions of the supposed practices of witches and for its identification of witches as almost exclusively female. Numerous reprints of this work in the decades of the Reformation encouraged the 460

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 460

12/19/2000 10:09:12 AM

A Reformation ABC

continued practice of prosecuting witches. Both Luther and Calvin encouraged the execution of accused witches in the cities of their residence. The “witch craze” did not reach its peak, however, until the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth centuries. It was particularly prominent in the German-speaking lands and much less common in most of the Mediterranean countries. Witch-hunting was not, however, without its critics. Both Catholic and Protestant authors denounced the practice on the argument that self-confessed witches needed medical treatment instead of persecution. For reasons that remain unclear, witch trials virtually ceased over the course of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Mackay, Malleus Maleficarum, 2006; Ginzburg, The Night Battles, 1983; Roper, Oedipus and the Devil: Witchcraft, Sexuality and Religion in Early Modern Europe, 1994. A.M.J.

Wittenberg The city of Wittenberg was first mentioned in the historical record in 1180. In the fifteenth century, it belonged to the Duchy of Saxony and became the seat of Ernestine Saxony after the Wettin dynasty split in 1485. The Ernestines retained the Saxon right to vote for the Holy Roman Emperor (the electorship), while the Albertine branch retained possession of the Saxon university in Leipzig. Elector Frederick the Wise remedied the lack of a university in his lands by founding the University of Wittenberg in 1502. Luther’s monastic superior, Augustinian vicar-general Johann von Staupitz, served as first dean of the theological faculty and encouraged Luther to prepare for and take a position as professor. The 1517 publication of Luther’s 95 Theses from Wittenberg marks the beginning of the Reformation. The humanist and reformer Philip Melanchthon arrived as professor in 1518, further bolstering the university’s reputation. The university stood as a bastion of Lutheran Orthodoxy until its close after the Napoleonic Wars; it retains a preacher’s seminary in conjunction with the University of Halle. In the twentieth century, the city changed its name to “Lutherstadt Wittenberg.” In 1996 the city’s Luther House, Melanchthon House, City Church and Castle Church were named UNESCO World Heritage Sites. M.J.L.

Wolsey, Thomas (c. 1472–1530) Born in East Anglia, Wolsey attended Magdalen College, Oxford where he completed the B.A. and M.A. degrees. He later proceeded to the B.Th. and D.Th. Wolsey advanced quickly in the Church, becoming chaplain 461

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 461

12/19/2000 10:09:12 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

to Henry Deane, Archbishop of Canterbury (1501–1503) and King Henry VII. After the king’s death in 1509, Wolsey became chaplain to his son and successor, Henry VIII. Wolsey’s career accelerated. In March 1514, he was elevated to the See of Lincoln, and in September to the Archbishopric of York. A year later Wolsey was made a cardinal, and given a legatine commission by the pope in 1518, effectively granting him legal supremacy over the English Church. Also, in 1515, Henry VIII appointed him Lord Chancellor of England. As a loyal servant of the State and the Church, Wolsey secured diplomatic successes such as the Treaty of London of 1518 and the Field of the Cloth of Gold in 1520, and various legal reforms. His lasting contribution to education was the founding of Cardinal College which later became Christ Church in Oxford. He is also credited with impressive architectural feats. However, his failure to secure for Henry an annulment of his marriage to Catherine of Aragon from Pope Clement VII resulted in his downfall in 1529. He died in 1530. Wolsey’s immense wealth, multiple ecclesiastical benefices and legatine authority gave impetus to the campaign to expel papal jurisdiction from England. Wolsey, The York Provinciale, Put Forth by Thomas Wolsey, Archbishop of York, in the Year 1518, Milwaukee: Morehouse, 1931; Gwyn, The King’s Cardinal: The Rise and Fall of Thomas Wolsey, London: Barrie and Jenkins, 1990. A.G.

Worship Christian worship has its origins in the Jewish beliefs and practices that Jesus and his followers knew and participated in, including synagogue worship, Temple rituals, and holy days. As Jews and Christians grew apart in the first century after Christ, Christians developed independent worship forms and rituals. From the New Testament and sources like the Didache, there is evidence of the use of scriptural readings, hymns, creeds, and the Lord’s Supper in early Christian worship. Eastern Orthodox communities continue to use liturgies from the patristic period, emphasizing worship as participation in the mystery (Greek, “sacrament”) of God. In the Middle Ages, the continued use of Latin meant that the mystery of worship included greater linguistic and symbolic distance between the people and priests. Although the Mass (from the last words of the Roman Rite, Ita, Missa est, “Go, it is sent”) had become something to watch more than participate in, devotional worship also thrived in popular piety, church artwork, lay foundations, and monastic life. Respecting the ancient Roman Rite, Martin Luther’s worship changes aimed to reform worship by emphasizing God’s Word and by increasing people’s participation through vernacular preaching, congregational singing, and reception of 462

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 462

12/19/2000 10:09:12 AM

A Reformation ABC

communion in both kinds. Other reformers, including Zwingli and Calvin, based their worship reforms even more on the Bible. They interpreted the commandment against graven images as prohibiting art and ornamentation in churches and rejected hymns or liturgical phrases not found in Scripture. The Council of Trent, affirming the traditional Roman rite and Eucharistic theology, also launched significant reforms for preaching and liturgical literacy. In England, the Book of Common Prayer brought unity through worship in a way that confessional documents could not. The anti-liturgical worship traditions anticipated by sixteenth-century Anabaptist movements grew more prominent among the Baptists, Congregationalists, and Quakers of the following century. See, Karant-Nunn, Reformation of Ritual, 1997; Eire, War against the Idols: The Reformation of Worship from Erasmus to Calvin, 1995. M.J.L.

Wyclif, John (1329–84) John Wyclif was an Oxford theologian and parish preacher, who influenced the Bohemian pre-reformer Jan Hus as well as Luther and the Reformation. Wyclif asserted that the papacy had become corrupt by acquiring civil power and enriching itself through taxes and indulgences. Wyclif sought to reform the medieval church by recognizing the unique authority of Scripture and referring all civil power to the state. Wyclif defined the true church as the predestined, known perfectly to God alone, but recognized in the world by apostolic purity and love (caritas). Christ and not the pope, who can be an antiChrist, is the head of the church. According to Wyclif, the church and the state both receive their authority from God and are to play mutually supportive but distinct roles. During the papal schism of 1378, Wyclif taught a doctrine of evangelical dominion (dominium), where theologians advise the king who administers Christ’s law over his subjects and even holds unfaithful priests accountable. Wyclif viewed Scripture as the source of all authority, and he sponsored the first English translation of Bible. With respect church doctrine, Wyclif rejected transubstantiation, teaching that Christ’s body and blood did not replace the substance of bread and wine, but that the Eucharist, like Christ himself, had an earthly and divine nature. His teaching, called “remanence,” held that Christ was present in the host like an image is present in a mirror. Wyclif also taught that all things, even free actions, are predetermined by divine necessity. In 1428, the Council of Constance ordered that Wycliffe’s remains be burned for his views on church authority and divine necessity. Luther took up Wycliffe’s statement that “all things happen by necessity” in his 1525 Bondage of the Will. He claimed that Wycliffe’s position was wrongly 463

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 463

12/19/2000 10:09:13 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

condemned and used it as a major plank in his argument against Erasmas’s notion of free choice. Hudson and Wilks, eds, From Ockham to Wyclif, 1987. M.H.

Zurich Consensus Reformed Christianity had always been more polyvalent than Lutheranism, given the latter’s tendency to coalesce around the person and perception of Martin Luther. By the 1540s, however, the many varieties of Reformed churches generally had aligned with either of two major forms: the Swiss and South German model primarily stamped by Huldrych Zwingli and by the ongoing leadership of Heinrich Bullinger, or the French refugee model increasingly visible under the leadership of John Calvin. Differences in church–state relations were numerous. Perhaps even more weighty were the divergent theological positions pertaining to the Lord’s Supper. Zwinglian tradition had emphasized the symbolic dimension of the sacrament as a species of oath among the gathered community of faith. Calvin, while also eschewing Lutheran conceptions of Christ’s bodily presence “in, with, and under” the elements, strenuously defended a notion of Christ’s real presence conferred through the Spirit among faithful communicants. Years of frank correspondence and careful dialogue between Calvin and Bullinger in Zurich resulted by May of 1549 in a compromise known as the Zurich Consensus (Consensus Tigurinus). This document articulated the importance of Spiritual communion with Christ while also maintaining the notion that the sacramental elements are not sacrosanct in themselves and that they operate only for the elect by faith. The Zurich Consensus was ratified by many Reformed churches in May of 1551, and it was promptly published in Latin, German, and French. Lutheran theologians, smarting under disadvantageous conditions following the Schmalkaldic War in the Empire, produced an onslaught of diatribes condemning the Consensus. One upshot of that theological assault, however, consisted in a greater self-perception of common cause among the erstwhile divergent camps of Reformed Christianity. Gordon, The Swiss Reformation, 2002. J.W.

Zurich Disputations A broad range of issues concerning scriptural and papal authority, the proper function of civil government, veneration of saints, monasticism, and 464

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 464

12/19/2000 10:09:13 AM

A Reformation ABC

Eucharistic theology had a combined effect of threatening social fabric in Zurich. The uproar surrounding Huldrych Zwingli’s 1522 sermon questioning the requirement to fast during Lent was just one case in point. In light of the failure of their bishop to convene any meaningful gathering to resolve the matter, the City Council itself called for a public disputation to be held on January 29, 1523. The bishop refused to attend, but his representative, Johann Fabri, was present, if only in order to express his rejection of the legitimacy of the disputation. Zwingli defended its legitimacy as a representative gathering of the local church. This so-called First Zurich Disputation was a triumph for Zwingli, who memorialized the event (for which no official protocols survive) in the form of 67 Articles defending the reformation agenda. Fundamentally, the Disputation sided with Zwingli’s assertion that Scripture alone (rather than canon law or papal or episcopal decree) should be used to settle church controversies. Not only was Zwingli exonerated of the charge of heresy, but the City Council effectively introduced the reforming measure of supplanting episcopal jurisdiction over the Zurich church. The First Disputation restored a modicum of public calm, but reformational measures continued to confront opposition. A new preacher in the city, Leo Jud, was particularly zealous to close monasteries and to introduce vernacular liturgies that emphasized preaching over traditional sacraments. Although the Catholic party no longer had an episcopal representative in the city, Zwingli’s longtime Zurich antagonist, Conrad Hoffmann, presented to the Council a formal catalogue of charges of heresy against the Reformer. The Council summoned a Second Disputation to be held from October 26 to 28, 1523. Approximately 900 delegates attended this gathering, including about 350 clergy. The City Council again cleared Huldrych Zwingli of the charge of heresy. Magisterial consolidation associated with the Disputations gave Zurich a position of leading evangelical influence throughout the Swiss Confederation and beyond. Gordon, The Swiss Reformation, 2002. J.W.

Zwickau Prophets In December 1521, while Luther was at the Wartburg Castle, three men came to Wittenberg from the Saxon town of Zwickau: Nicholas Storch, Thomas Drechsel, and Marcus Thomae, also called Stübner. Storch and Drechsel had worked in Zwickau’s large and socially volatile textile industry; Stübner had been a Wittenberg theology student. They claimed visions of a Turkish invasion and end of the world. This eschatological emphasis and claim of direct revelation echoed the preaching of Thomas Müntzer, who was pastor in 465

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 465

12/19/2000 10:09:13 AM

T&T Clark Companion to Reformation Theology

Zwickau that year. In a letter to Luther, Melanchthon reported on the arrival of these Zwickau prophets and likely asked for advice about how to deal with them (the letter is not extant). In addition to their visions, the prophets had apparently challenged infant baptism, a question that had not yet arisen for the reformers. After a short stay, the Zwickau prophets moved on. Though their effect in Wittenberg seems to have been minimal, they arrived at a tense time for the city. Commentators have therefore pointed to them as proof of Karlstadt’s growing radicalism or of the young Melanchthon’s timidity. Preus, Carlstadt’s “Ordinaciones” and Luther’s Liberty: A Study of the Wittenberg Movement, 1521–1522, 1974; Zuck, Christianity and Revolution: Radical Christian Testimonies, 1520–1650, 1975. M.J.L.

Zwingli, Huldrych (1484–1531) Huldrych (or, Ulrich) Zwingli was born in an Alpine region known as Toggenburg (today within the canton of St. Gall). He received his education at Bern and Vienna, and he completed a master’s degree at the University of Basel in 1506. He was ordained as a priest in Glarus later that year. Scholastic emphasis on divine sovereignty, humanistic learning, and an abiding pride in his Swiss identity provided strong influences in Zwingli’s life and thought. Recognizable intimations toward his reforming career began in 1515. Having served as a chaplain during the disastrous Battle of Marignano, Zwingli came vehemently to oppose the Swiss mercenary industry on grounds of its inherent exploitation and its horrible cost to the Swiss population. Reforming zeal also emerged in his efforts to cleanse religious life of excesses associated with adoration and invocation of saints. In this, Zwingli drew from his personal acquaintance with Erasmus. He also made much use of the latter’s edition of the Greek New Testament during his 3 years serving as a priest in the pilgrimage city of Einsiedeln. Zwingli’s definitive career as a Reformer began when he was elected as a priest in the Great Minster of the powerful Swiss city of Zurich. Two pivotal Disputations in the year 1523 decisively established magisterial reformation throughout Zurich in matters concerning the fundamental guiding importance of Scripture versus papacy, a new relationship to saints, freedom from mandated religious fasting, and freedom of clergy to marry, as well as an assertion of ecclesiastical oversight by the city council over episcopal opposition. Beyond obvious controversies with Roman Catholics, Zwingli also criticized various so-called Anabaptists in matters that included their radical rejection of Zurich’s Christian political authority. Zwingli also often argued quite strenuously with Martin Luther. He characterized Luther’s notion of Christ’s bodily presence in the Eucharist as a superstitious betrayal 466

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 466

12/19/2000 10:09:13 AM

A Reformation ABC

of Christ’s symbolic meal and as an unwarranted limitation upon God’s providential action throughout the world. Zwingli focused his dynamic personality on the task of consolidating the entire Swiss Confederation within the cause of Reformation, but a precipitous victory by Swiss Catholics in the small, but strategic war of 1531 ended this dream. Zwingli, once more serving as a military chaplain, died in battle. The Swiss Confederation thus began its course toward multiconfessional politics, even as the Zwinglian tradition continued to flourish under the leadership of Zwingli’s successor, Heinrich Bullinger. Stephens, Zwingli: An Introduction to his Thought, 1992. J.W.

467

9780567033604_Ch20_Final_txt_print.indd 467

12/19/2000 10:09:13 AM

Short Definitions of Contributors Matthew Archer, University of Dayton (M.A.) Derek Cooper, Biblical Seminary, Hatfield, PA (D.C.) Lolly Dominski, Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary (L.D.) Andre Gazal, Northland International University (A.G.) Jonathan Gray, Virginia Theological Seminary (J.G.) Matthew Heckel, Missouri Baptist University (M.H.) Barbara J. Hedges-Goettl, Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary (B.H.G.) Jason Hentschel, University of Dayton (J.H.) Benjamin Heidgerken, University of Dayton (B.E.H.) Justus Hunter, Southern Methodist University (J.H.H.) Anna Marie Johnson, Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary (A.M.J.) Martin Lohrmann, Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia (M.J.L.) ShinHyung Seong, Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary (S.S.) Adam Wirrig, University of Aberdeen (A.L.W.) Jon Wood, Indiana University-Purdue University Indianapolis (J.W.)

468

9780567033604_Ch21_Final_txt_print.indd 468

12/19/2000 10:10:18 AM

Contributors to the Volume

Paul Avis (Ph.D., London) was the General Secretary of the Council for Christian Unity of the Church of England from 1998 to 2011 and is now Theological Consultant to the Anglican Communion Office in London, Canon Theologian of Exeter Cathedral, honorary Professor of Theology in the University of Exeter, and Editor of Ecclesiology. Robin Bruce Barnes (Ph.D., Virginia) is Professor of History at Davidson College. He is the author of Prophecy and Gnosis and of Astrology and Reformation: Apocalypticism in the Wake of the Lutheran Reformation. Ľubomír Batka (Ph.D., Tübingen) is Assistant Professor of Systematic Theology at the Evangelical Lutheran Faculty of the Comenius University in Bratislava, Slovakia. He is the author of Peccatum radicale: eine Studie zu Luthers Erbsündenverständnis in Psalm 51. Geoffrey Dipple (Ph.D., Queen’s) is Professor of History at Augustana College. He is the author of Antifraternalism and Anticlericalism: Johann Eberlin von Günzburg and Campaign against the Friars and “Just as in the Time of the Apostles”: Uses of History in the Radical Reformation. Chad Van Dixhoorn (Ph.D., Cambridge) is Adjunct Professor of Church History at Reformed Theological Seminary. He has published numerous articles and essays that have appeared in Reformation and Renaissance Review, Westminster Theological Journal, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, and The Sixteenth Century Journal. His five-volume edition of the minutes and papers of the Westminster Assembly is to be published by Oxford University Press in 2012. R. Ward Holder (Ph.D., Boston College) is Professor of Theology at Saint Anselm College and the author of John Calvin and the Grounding of Interpretation: Calvin’s First Commentaries and the editor of A Companion to Paul in the Reformation.

469

9780567033604_Contrib_Final_txt_print.indd 469

12/19/2000 10:10:52 AM

Contributors to the Volume

Anna Marie Johnson (Ph.D., Princeton Seminary) is Assistant Professor of Church History at Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary. She is the co-editor of The Reformation as Christianization: Essays on Scott Hendrix’s Christianization Thesis. Robert Kolb (Ph.D., Wisconsin) is Missions Professor of Systematic Theology Emeritus at Concordia Seminary Saint Louis. He is the author of numerous articles and books on Martin Luther and Reformation theology, including Martin Luther: Confessor of the Faith. Volker Leppin (Ph.D., Heidelberg) is Professor of Church History at Eberhard Karls Universität Tübingen. He is the author of Antichrist und Jun¨gster Tag: Das Profil apokalyptischer Flugschriftenpublizistik im Deutschen Luthertum 1548–1618 and of a biography of Martin Luther. Carter Lindberg (Ph.D., Iowa) is Professor of Church History Emeritus at Boston University School of Theology. He is the author and editor of numerous books including The European Reformations. Karin Maag (Ph.D., St Andrews) is Professor of History and Director of the Meeter Center for Calvin Studies at Calvin College. She is the author of Seminary or University? The Genevan Academy and Reformed Higher Education and editor of several works including Worship in Medieval and Early Modern Europe. Raymond Mentzer (Ph.D., Wisconsin) is Director, Department of Religious Studies, Daniel J. Krumm Family Chair in Reformation Studies and Professor of History at the University of Iowa. He is the author of numerous books and articles including Sin and the Calvinists: Morals Control and the Consistory in the Reformed Tradition and Blood and Belief: Family Survival and Confessional Identity among the Provincial Huguenot Nobility. Karen E. Spierling (Ph.D., Wisconsin) is Associate Professor of History at Denison University. She is the author of Infant Baptism in Reformation Geneva: The Shaping of a Community, 1536–1564 and co-editor of Defining Community in Early Modern Europe. Bryan Spinks (DD, Durham) is Goddard Professor of Liturgical Studies and Pastoral Theology at Yale Divinity School. His recent books include Liturgy in the Age of Reason: Worship and Sacraments in England and Scotland 1662–c.1800 and The Worship Mall: Contemporary Responses to Contemporary Culture. Peter Maxwell-Stuart (Ph.D., St Andrews) is Reader in the School of History at the University of St. Andrews. He is the author of The Devil: From Early Modern Times to the Present, The Chemical Choir: A History of Alchemy and Witch Beliefs and Witch Trials in the Middle Ages. 470

9780567033604_Contrib_Final_txt_print.indd 470

12/19/2000 10:10:53 AM

Contributors to the Volume

Anne T. Thayer (Ph.D., Harvard) is Paul and Minnie Diefenderfer Professor of Mercersburg and Ecumenical Theology and Church History at Lancaster Theological Seminary. She is the author of Penitence, Preaching and the Coming of the Reformation and translator of Handbook for Curates: A Late Medieval Manual on Pastoral Ministry. Carl R. Trueman (Ph.D., Aberdeen) is the Paul Woolley Professor of Church History at Westminster Theological Seminary. He is the author of Luther’s Legacy: Salvation and English Reformers, 1525–1556 and the editor of Calvin, Barth, and Reformed Theology. Haruko Nawata Ward (Ph.D., Princeton Seminary) is Associate Professor of Church History at Columbia Theological Seminary. She is the author of Women Religious Leaders in Japan’s Christian Century, 1549–1650. David M. Whitford is Professor of Reformation Studies at Baylor University, USA. He is the author of Tyranny and Resistance: The Lutheran Tradition and the Magdeburg Confession (2001), Reformation and Early Modern Europe: A Guide to Research (2007), Luther: A Guide for the Perplexed (2010), as well as numerous articles on Reformation Europe. He is an editor of The Sixteenth Century Journal. Randall Zachman (Ph.D., Chicago) is Professor of Reformation Studies at the University of Notre Dame. He is co-editor of the Archive for Reformation Research and the author of Image and Word in the Theology of John Calvin and The Assurance of Faith: Conscience in the Theology of Martin Luther and John Calvin.

471

9780567033604_Contrib_Final_txt_print.indd 471

12/19/2000 10:10:53 AM

Notes

Chapter 1 1 Nearly the entirety of the WA can be found and downloaded from the Internet Archive, www.archive.org. A list of the individual volumes and their location on the internet can be found at www.lutherdansk.dk/WA/D.%20Martin%20Luthers%20 Werke,%20Weimarer%20Ausgabe%20-%20WA.htm. A fully searchable online edition of the WA is available in many larger university and seminary libraries (http:// luther.chadwyck.co.uk/). 2 A CD-ROM version of the LW is available for purchase from Logos Software (www. logos.com). 3 Calvin’s volumes in the CR are often referenced separately from the other two. The Calvin volumes are most often called the Ioannis Calvini Opera Quae Supersunt Omnia and cited as Calvini Opera or CO for short. In that system, CR volume 29 is simultaneously CO volume 1. Electronic editions of both Calvin and Melanchthon from the CR are available for purchase on CD-ROM from the Instituut voor Reformatieonderzoek in the Netherlands (www.tua.nl/ir). 4 Both Calvin’s works and Zwingli’s works are currently being issued in new critical editions. Calvin’s works are being produced by Librarie Droz (www.droz.ch) in Geneva. Zwingli’s work is being overseen by the Theologischer Verlag Zürich (www.tvz.ref.ch). 5 John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion: 1536 Edition, translated by Ford Lewis Battles (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995); John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion: 1541 French Edition, the First English Version, translated by Elsie Anne McKee (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2009). 6 www.ccel.org 7 There are resources like the Verzeichnis der im deutschen Sprachbereich erschienenen Drucke des 16. Jahrhunderts (which is always abbreviated VD 16 and can be used online at www.vd16.de) which catalogs all of the works published in the HRE in the sixteenth century. A similar resource for English language books is the English Short Title Catalog (estc.bl.uk). The HPB Database or the Heritage of the Printed Book in Europe, c. 1450–c. 1830 is similar in that it catalogs all of the books published during the early modern era. It, however, is also prone to duplications since it actually records the presence of books in libraries (where different librarians might enter the same book slightly differently) rather than publication. 8 If you wish to look at the authors in the original languages, one option remains the Patrologiae cursus completes . . . Series Latina or Series Gracae or Patrologia Latinae or the Patrologia Gracae [i.e., the Latin Fathers and the Greek Fathers] for short. Both are massive and both were edited by the French priest, Jacques Paul Migne, in the nineteenth century. The PL is comprised of 217 volumes and contains works

472

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 472

12/19/2000 10:14:24 AM

Notes written originally in Latin from about the second century to the very beginning of the thirteenth century. The PG is 161 volumes and contains the Greek Fathers of the East. Both are sometimes simply referred to as “Migne.” All of Migne is available online at www.documentacatholicaomnia.eu/. Though Migne aimed at comprehensiveness, it does have a large number of inaccuracies. Beginning in the 1950s a new edition of the major theological works of the West in the Corpus Christianorum Series Latina or CCSL was begun. Today the CCSL and its companion the Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis have 186 and 251 volumes respectively. When complete, the collection will completely supersede Migne. This collection is available in most research libraries and in many libraries it is available (and fully searchable) online. 9 The Works of Bernard of Clairvaux (Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Fathers). 10 Summa Theologiae, 61 vols, Blackfriars edn (New York and London: Eyre & Spottiswood, 1964–1980). 11 Peter Lombard, The Sentences, 4 vols (Toronto: PIMS, 2004–2009). Chapter 2 1 Nicomachean Ethics I, vi, 14–15. 2 Expositio . . . ex epistola ad Romanos XIII–XVII (Jacques-Paul Migne [ed.], Patrologia, Series Latina [Paris: Gernier, 1844–64] 35: 2065); Enchiridion ad Laurentium 118 (Patrologia 40: 287). 3 For example, Insight and Responsibility (New York: Norton, 1964), esp. 81–107; Identity, Youth and Crisis (New York: Norton, 1968), esp. 91–141; Life History and the Historical Moment (New York: Norton, 1975). 4 D. Martin Luthers Werke (Weimar: Böhlau, 1883–1993 [henceforth WA]), WA 24: 49, 6–57, 21; 42: 41, 36–49, 16; Luther’s Works (St Louis, MO/Philadelphia, PA: Concordia/Fortress, 1958–86 [henceforth LW]), 1: 55–65. 5 Die Bekenntnisschriften der evangelisch-lutherischen Kirche (11th edn; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1992 [henceforth BSLK]), 507; The Book of Concord, ed. Robert Kolb and Timothy J. Wengert (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2000), 351. 6 BSLK, 510–11; Book of Concord, 354–5. 7 BSLK, 560; Book of Concord, 386. 8 WA 42: 45, 18–46, 31; LW 1: 60–1. 9 WA 42: 46, 11–17; LW 1: 62–3. The rudimentary elements of this view were present as Luther preached on Genesis 1.26 in 1523; see the published version (1527), WA 24: 48. 10 WA 2: (41), 43–7; 145–52; LW 31: 297–306. 11 WA 40, I: 45, 24–7; LW 26: 7. See Robert Kolb and Charles P. Arand, The Genius of Luther’s Theology. A Wittenberg Way of Thinking for the Contemporary Church (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2008), 21–128; Robert Kolb, Martin Luther, Confessor of the Faith (Christian Theology in Context series; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 64–8; idem, “Luther on the Two Kinds of Righteousness. Reflections on His Two-Dimensional Definition of Humanity at the Heart of His Theology,” Lutheran Quarterly 13 (1999): 449–66. 12 See Theo Dieter, Der junge Luther und Aristoteles. Eine historisch-systematische Untersuchung zum Verhältnis von Theologie und Philosophie (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2001); Brian A. Gerrish, Grace and Reason, a Study in the Theology of Luther (Oxford: Clarendon, 1962). 13 Heiko A. Oberman, The Harvest of Medieval Theology. Gabriel Biel and Late Medieval Nominalsim (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1967), 131–84. 14 WA 42: 108, 37–9; LW 1: 144; cf. DSA, WA 18: 685, 14–15, 717, 25–39, 719, 9–12; LW 33: 139, 188, 190.

473

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 473

12/19/2000 10:14:24 AM

Notes 15 Robert Kolb, Bound Choice, Election, and Wittenberg Theological Method from Martin Luther to the Formula of Concord (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2005), 62–5. 16 WA 24: 81, 32–97, 31. 17 WA 42: 110, 11–16; LW 1: 146. 18 WA 42: 111, 2–3; LW 1: 147; WA 42: 112, 20–2; LW 1: 149. 19 Smalcald Articles (1537), III: i: 2; BSLK 433–4; Book of Concord, 310–11. 20 BSLK, 507–10; Book of Concord, 351–4. 21 See Albrecht Peters, Gesetz und Evangelium (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1981); Arand/Kolb, Genius, 148–59; Kolb, Martin Luther, 50–5, 68–70. 22 Heidelberg Theses, 13, WA 1: 354; LW 31: 40. 23 WA 7: 142, 23–149, 7; LW 32: 92–4. 24 Kolb, Bound Choice, 67–102; Timothy J. Wengert, Human Freedom, Christian Righteousness. Philip Melanchthon’s Exegetical Dispute with Erasmus of Rotterdam (Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), 5–109. 25 WA 18: 600–787; LW 33: 15–295. Erasmus wrote two volumes in response to On Bound Choice; Luther answered in his lectures on Ecclesiastes in 1526, in which he demonstrated how Erasmus’s concept of the freedom of the human will not only debilitates the relationship with God but also the relationship with other human beings; see Robert Rosin, Reformers, the Preacher, and Skepticism. Luther, Brenz, Melanchthon, and Ecclesiastes (Mainz: Zabern, 1997), 100–2, 79–150. 26 Small Catechism, explanation to the Third Article of the Creed, BSLK 511–12; Book of Concord, 355–6. 27 WA 18: 754, 1–12; LW 33: 242–3; WA 18: 751, 22–4; LW 33: 237. 28 WA 43: 459, 24–460, 35; LW 5: 45–6; cf. the entire passage, WA 43: 457, 33–463, 17; LW 5: 42–50. 29 He used 1 Timothy 2.4 to affirm this (WA 18: 686, 1–13; LW 33: 140); in other places he based his belief that Christ died for all on God’s wanting to turn all sinners to himself, Ezekiel 18.33, for example, in WA Br 10: 492, 128–39 (#3956). 30 Kolb, Bound Choice, 40–8. 31 Kolb, Bound Choice, 39–40. 32 Kolb, Bound Choice, 38–43. 33 Rune Söderlund, Ex praevisa Fide. Zum Verständnis der Prädestinationslehre in der lutherischen Orthodoxie (Hannover: Lutherisches Verlagshaus, 1983), 15–28, even though Söderlund finds Luther’s position in De servo arbitrio less “broken” than that of the Formula of Concord. 34 Especially his treatment of “free choice” and “sin,” see Melanchthons Werke in Auswahl, 6 vols, ed. Robert Stupperich (Gütersloh: Bertelsmann, 1955), II/2: 21–31, 31–82. 35 Ibid., II, 1: 240–63, II; 2.628–38; see Kolb, Bound Choice, 76–80, 86–91. 36 Wengert, Human Freedom, passim, and idem, Law and Gospel, Philip Melanchthon’s Debate with John Agricola of Eisleben over Poenitentia (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1997), 77–175. 37 Kolb, Bound Choice, 70–102 on Melanchthon (see also Wengert, Human Freedom) and on his students, ibid., 103–270. 38 Wilhelm Preger, Matthias Flacius Illyricus (Erlangen: Blaesing, 1859–61), 2: 310–412. 39 Kolb, Bound Choice. 40 FC I and II, BSLK, 816–22, 1063–91; Book of Concord, 487–94, 531–62. 41 Irene Dingel, Concordia controversa, Die öffentlichen Diskussionen um das lutherische Konkordienwerk am Ende des 16. Jahrhunderts (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1996), 467–541; Robert Christman, “Heretics in Luther’s Homeland: The Controversy over Original Sin in Late 16th-Century Mansfeld” (Ph.D. dissertation., University of Arizona, 2004), passim.

474

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 474

12/19/2000 10:14:25 AM

Notes 42 FC XII, BSLK, 816–22, 1063–91; Book of Concord, 517–20, 640–56. 43 Söderlund, Ex praevisa fide, 13–151. 44 The Doctrine of Man in Classical Theology, ed. Herman A. Preus and Edmund Smits (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg, 1962); Carl Heinz Ratschow, Lutherische Dogmatik zwischen Reformation und Aufklärung 2 vols (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1964, 1966), 2: 197–247. 45 Huldreich Zwinglis Sämtliche Werke, Corpus Reformatorum 93, 2 (Zurich: Berichthaus, 1968): 797–9. 46 CR 93, 2: 800. 47 Institutes, I, 1–2, John Calvin, Corpus Reformatorum, Opera quae supersunt omnia, Wilhelm Baum et al. (eds) (Braunschweig: Schwetschke, 1861–1900) [henceforth CR], 30: 31–5; John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, John T. McNeil (ed.), Ford Lewis Battles (trans.), Library of Christian Classics 20–1 (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster, 1960) [henceforth LCC], 20: 35–8. 48 Institutes, I, 2, CR 30: 34–6, LCC 20: 37–8. 49 Susan E. Schreiner, The Theater of His Glory. Nature and the Natural Order in the Thought of John Calvin (Durham: Labyrinth, 1991), 16–19, 32–5. 50 Institutes, I.15.3; CR 30: 136–8; LCC 20: 186–9. See Schreiner, Theater, 55–65. 51 Institutes, I.15.4, 6, 8; CR 30: 138–9, 140–3; LCC 20: 189–90, 192–4, 195–7. 52 Commentary on Ezekiel, CR 68: 424; Sermons on Job, CR 62: 357–61; Commentary on Isaiah, CR 65: 144. 53 Psychopannychia (1534), CR 33: 177, 180–1, 196, 201; Against the Libertines (1545), CR 35: 183–6, 194–6, 221–2; Institutes (1559), I.15.1–6; CR 30: 134–42; LCC 20: 182–94. 54 Commentary on Genesis, CR 81: 51–65. 55 Institutes, II.1.4–5; CR 30: 178–80; LCC 20: 244–8. 56 Institutes, II.1.7–10; CR 30: 181–5; LCC 20: 249–55. 57 Sermons on Job, CR 61: 57, 62: 220, 63: 171; on Ephesians, CR 84: 457; Commentary on Psalm 36, CR 59: 361–2. See Schreiner, Theater, 65–72. 58 Institutes, I.2.1, 5.4, 12, II.14; CR 30: 34–6, 43–4, 49–50, 353–61; LCC 20: 39–41, 320–1, 331–2, 482–93. 59 Commentary on Psalm 24, CR 59: 244; on Acts, CR 76: 323; Institutes, I.5.3, II.2.12–16; CR 30: 43, 274–8; LCC 20: 54–5, 270–5. 60 Institutes, II.2.20–7, 3.1–6, 15.5; CR 30: 201–16, 365–6; LCC 20: 278–98, 507–10. 61 Sermons on Job, CR 62: 397–8, 66: 493–4; Commentary on Psalm 73, C59: 684. See Schreiner, Theater, 81–90. 62 Institutes, II.2.1–27, CR 30: 185–209; LCC 20: 255–89. 63 Institutes, II.2.10–11, CR 30: 193–5; LCC 20: 267–70. 64 Institutes, II.4.1–5, CR 30: 224–7; LCC 20: 309–13. On the relationship of Calvin’s thought on these matters to Luther’s thinking, see Matthew C. Heckel, “‘His Spear Through My Side into Luther’: Calvin’s Relationship to Luther’s Doctrine of the Will,” Ph.D. dissertation, Concordia Seminary, St Louis, 2005. 65 Institutes, II.4.6, CR 30: 227–8; LCC 20: 314–15. 66 Institutes, II.4.8, II.5.1–19, CR 30: 229–47; LCC 20: 316–40. 67 Institutes, III.2.2.33–5, CR 30: 425–7; LCC 20: 580–3. 68 Institutes, III.2.41, CR 30: 431–2; LCC 20: 588–90. 69 Institutes, III.7.1–10, III.8.1–6, CR 30: 506–19; LCC 20: 689–707. 70 Second Helvetic Confession, VIII, IX, E. F. K. Müller (ed.), Die Bekenntnisschriften der reformierten Kirche (1903; Zürich: Theologische Buchhandlung, 1987) [henceforth BSRK], 178, 179; Arthur C. Cochrane (ed.), Reformed Confessions of the Sixteenth Century (Louisville, KY: Westminster, 2003) [henceforth RCSC], 234–40. 71 Heidelberg Catechism Q. 6, BSRK, 684, RCSC, 306.

475

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 475

12/19/2000 10:14:25 AM

Notes 72 Second Helvetic Confession, BSRK, 178–9, RCSC, 235–7. 73 Scottish Confession, III, BSRK, 250, RCSC 167. Hungarian pastors issued a similar confession in 1562, with the same essential description of original sin and the bondage of the will, articles 14 and 15, BSRK, 380–1. 74 Second Helvetic Confession, VIII, BSRK, 178–9; RCSC, 235–7. 75 Second Helvetic Confession, IX, BSRK, 179–80; RCSC 237–40. 76 Heidelberg Catechism Q. 9, BSRK, 684–5; RCSC, 322. 77 Second Helvetic Confession, IX, BSRK, 179–81. 78 Heidelberg Catechism Q. 86, BSRK, 707–8. 79 Richard A. Muller, Christ and the Decree, Christology and Predestination in Reformed Theology from Calvin to Perkins (1986; Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1988), passim, esp. 175–82. 80 Keith D. Stanglin, Arminius on the Assurance of Salvation. The Context, Roots, and Shape of the Leiden Debate, 1603-1609 (Leiden: Brill, 2007); Richard A. Muller, God, Creation, and Providence in the Thought of Jacob Arminius. Sources and Directions of Scholastic Protestantism in the Era of Early Orthodoxy (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1991). 81 BSRK, 853. 82 BSRK, 508–9. 83 BSRK, 549–57. 84 Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, ed. Norman P. Tanner, S.J., Volume Two, Trent to Vatican II (London/Washington, D.C: Sheed & Ward/Georgetown University Press, 1990): 666. 85 Ibid., 671. 86 Ibid., 666–7. 87 Ibid., 672–3. 88 Henri de Lubac, Augustinianism and Modern Theology, trans. Lancelot Sheppard (New York: Herder, 1969); Alexander Sedgwick, Jansenism in Seventeenth-Century France (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 1977). Chapter 3 1 Gerhard Ebeling presented the framework of the history of biblical interpretation as the history of the Church. See his Wort Gottes und Tradition (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1964). 2 Jaroslav Pelikan called the development of medieval theology a “series of footnotes to Augustine.” The Growth of Medieval Theology (600–1300), vol. 3 of The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978), 3. 3 For one example, see David C. Steinmetz, “Calvin Among the Thomists: Exegesis of Romans 9,” in Biblical Hermeneutics in Historical Perspective, Mark Burrows and Paul Rorem (eds) (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1991), 198–214. 4 Very few other people would regularly have held scripture in their hands. 5 Karlfried Froehlich and Margaret T. Rusch, Biblia Latina cum Glossa Ordinaria: Facsimile Reprint of the Editio Princeps Adolph Rusch of Strassburg 1480/1481 (Turnholt: Brepols, 1992). 6 See the Froehlich edition. 7 Hilton C. Oswald, “Introduction to Volume 25,” in Luther’s Works, vol. 25, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan (St Louis, MO: Concordia Publishing House, 1972), ix–x. 8 See David F. Wright’s “Robert Estienne’s Nova Glossa Ordinaria. A Protestant Quest for a Standard Bible Commentary,” in Calvin: Erbe und Auftrag: Festschrift für Wilhelm Heinrich Neuser zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Willem van Spijker (Kampen: Kok Pharos Publishing House, 1991), 40–54.

476

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 476

12/19/2000 10:14:25 AM

Notes 9 Vivienne Westbrook, “Versions of Paul,” in A Companion to Paul in the Reformation, ed. R. Ward Holder (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 432–4. 10 Westbrook, “Versions of Paul,” 434. 11 William Monter, “The Inquisition,” in A Companion to the Reformation World, ed. R. Po-chia Hsia (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2004), 255–71. 12 Erika Rummel, The Case against Johann Reuchlin (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002), 9. 13 Rummel, The Case against Johann Reuchlin, 16. 14 The issue was also about academic qualifications. In part, theologians were accusing philologists of not understanding the implications of their investigations because of a lack of theological training and sophistication. See Erika Rummel, The Humanist–Scholastic Debate in the Renaissance and Reformation (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1995), 87–9. 15 See Mark 1.15. 16 H. J. Schroeder, O. P., trans. and ed., Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent (St Louis, MO: Herder, 1941), 18. 17 Though the work was printed during these years, the pope did not authorize its publication until 1520, and it was not issued until 1522. See Jerry H. Bentley, Humanists and Holy Writ: New Testament Scholarship in the Renaissance (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1983), 70–124. 18 Bentley, Humanists and Holy Writ, 91–2. 19 Bentley, Humanists and Holy Writ, 92. 20 Quoted in Basil Hall, “Biblical Scholarship: Editions and Commentaries,” in The Cambridge History of the Bible: The West from the Reformation to the Present Day, ed. S. L. Greenslade (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1963), 51. 21 The pages were printed between 1514 and 1517, but were not bound and made available for purchase until some time after 1520, when the pope gave his permission. 22 Bentley, Humanists and Holy Writ, 118. 23 Eugene F. Rice, Saint Jerome in the Renaissance (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins Press, 1985), 18. 24 Eric W. Gritsch, “Luther as Bible Translator,” in The Cambridge Companion to Martin Luther, ed. Donald K. McKim (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 71. 25 David Daniell, The Bible in English: Its History and Influence (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2003), 291–319. 26 Benson Bobrick, Wide as the Waters: The Story of the English Bible and the Revolution It Inspired (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2001), 175. 27 Bobrick, Wide as the Waters, 175. 28 Bobrick, Wide as the Waters, 215. 29 John Hale has suggested that the literacy rate began to reach as much as 50 percent in some of the cities. See his The Civilization of Europe in the Renaissance (New York: Atheneum, 1994), 398–9. Lisa Jardine has demonstrated that books not only provided reading material, but also symbols of status in her Worldly Goods: A New History of the Renaissance (New York: Doubleday, 1996). 30 Quoted in Patrick Collinson, The Reformation: A History (New York: Modern Library, 2004), 35. 31 At least in theory, some theologians even invited such examination. See my “Ecclesia, Legenda atque Intelligenda Scriptura: The Church as Discerning Community in Calvin’s Hermeneutic.” Calvin Theological Journal 36 (2001): 270–89. 32 This is not to suggest at all that the act of “setting” the text is not one fraught with interpretive meaning. It is, and early modern critics of various positions knew it, frequently blasting opponents for publishing a text with a particular doctrinal slant.

477

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 477

12/19/2000 10:14:25 AM

Notes 33 See Riemer Faber’s “Desiderius Erasmus’ Representation of Paul as Paragon of Learned Piety,” in A Companion to Paul in the Reformation, ed. R. Ward Holder (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 44. 34 Guy Bedouelle, O. P., “Jacques Lefèvre d’Etaples, (c.1460–1536),” in The Reformation Theologians, ed. Carter Lindberg (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2002), 20. 35 Lefèvre famously (or infamously) included the spurious Epistle to the Laodiceans in this version. However, he did not actually set it out as being of genuine Pauline authorship. See Irena Backus, “Jacques Lefèvre D’Etaples: A Humanist or Reformist View of Paul and His Theology?” in A Companion to Paul in the Reformation, ed. R. Ward Holder (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 61–90. 36 Bedouelle, “Jacques Lefèvre d’Etaples, (c.1460–1536),” 23–4. 37 Backus, “Jacques Lefèvre D’Etaples,” 90. 38 See John Payne, “Erasmus on Romans 9:6–24,” in The Bible in the 16th Century, ed. David Steinmetz (Durham: Duke University Press, 1990), 119–35; Thomas Torrance, “The Hermeneutics of Erasmus,” in Probing the Reformed Tradition: Historical Studies in Honor of Edward A. Dowey, Jr., ed. Elsie Anne McKee and Brian G. Armstrong (Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1989), 48–76; and Manfred Hoffman in his Rhetoric and Theology: The Hermeneutic of Erasmus (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994). 39 Ratio Vera Theologiae, 195:1–198:32, quoted in Manfred Hoffmann, Rhetoric and Theology: The Hermeneutic of Erasmus (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994), 33. 40 Erasmus, Enchiridion, translated as The Handbook of the Militant Christian, in The Essential Erasmus, selected and translated by John P. Dolan (New York: Penguin, 1964), 37. 41 Martin Luther, Preface to the Complete Edition of Luther’s Latin Writings, in Martin Luther: Selections from His Writings, ed. John Dillenberger (New York: Anchor, 1961), 11; WA 54: 179–87. 42 Martin Luther, “Christian Freedom,” in Martin Luther: Selections from His Writings, ed. John Dillenberger (New York: Anchor, 1961), 57; WA 7: 1–73. 43 See Robert Kolb, “God’s Select Vessel and Chosen Instrument: The Interpretation of Paul in Late Reformation Lutheran Theologians,” in A Companion to Paul in the Reformation, ed. R. Ward Holder (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 187–211. 44 Luther sets this out in both his dedicatory epistle to Leo X attached to Christian Freedom and in his recorded words before the Emperor at the Diet of Worms in 1521, where he denied that he could be moved from his positions unless he was shown from the scriptures that he was in error. 45 See Timothy J. Wengert’s “The Rhetorical Paul: Philip Melanchthon’s Interpretation of the Pauline Epistles,” in A Companion to Paul in the Reformation, ed. R. Ward Holder (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 129–64. 46 Calvin was directly influenced by Melanchthon. See, among others, Randall Zachman, John Calvin as Teacher, Pastor, and Theologian: The Shape of His Writing and Thought (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2006); and Alexandre Ganoczy, The Young Calvin, trans. David Foxgrover and Wade Provo (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1987), 146–51. 47 See Robert Kolb, “God’s Select Vessel and Chosen Instrument,” 187–212. 48 This is a notoriously difficult historiographical term, encompassing several movements that do not see themselves always together. The term should be used with caution. Werner Packull wrote “The uninitiated may well despair as to the variety of crusading, pacifist, evangelical, antitrinitarian, sabbatarian, communistic, apocalyptic, mystic-spiritualistic and biblically literalistic Anabaptists. Any attempt at distilling theological essence from such manifest variety seems at best a hazardous

478

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 478

12/19/2000 10:14:26 AM

Notes

49 50 51

52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61

62

undertaking.” Packull, “An Introduction to Anabaptist Theology,” in The Cambridge Companion to Reformation Theology, ed. David Bagchi and David C. Steinmetz (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 194. One of the favorite methods of executing Anabaptists, in a cruel mockery of their adult baptismal beliefs. Sigrun Haude, “Anabaptism,” in The Reformation World, ed. Andrew Pettegree (London: Routledge, 2000), 237. Peter Blickle, The Revolution of 1525: The German Peasants’ War from a New Perspective, trans. Thomas A. Brady, Jr and H. C. Erik Midelfort (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1981), 195. George H. Williams, The Radical Reformation, 3rd edn (Kirksville, MO: Sixteenth Century Studies, 1992), 122. The seven gifts are wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord. George H. Williams and Angel Mergal (eds), Spiritual and Anabaptist Writers (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1967), 47–70. Müntzer, “Sermon before Princes,” Spiritual and Anabaptist Writers (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1967), 58. Karin Maag, Seminary of University? The Genevan Academy and Reformed Higher Education, 1560–1620 (Brookfield, VT: Ashgate, 1995), 130. For more on Calvin and scripture see Donald K. McKim, ed., Calvin and the Bible (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). G. Sujin Pak, The Judaizing Calvin: Sixteenth Century Debates over the Messianic Psalms (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009). Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, 18–19. Canons and Decrees, 19. Christopher Haigh, “The Reformation in England to 1603,” in A Companion to the Reformation World ed. R. Po-chia Hsia (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2004), 138–9. See M. Lamberigts and A. A. den Hollander, Lay Bibles in Europe 1450–1800 (Leuven: Peeters, 2006); and David Daniell, The Bible in English (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2003).

Chapter 4 1 The standard histories of the doctrine of justification are Albrecht Ritschl, Der Christliche Lehre von der Rechtfertigung und Versöhnung, 3 vols (Bonn: Marcus, 1882–3); Alister E. McGrath, Iustitia Dei: A History of the Christian Doctrine of Justification (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005). 2 On the via moderna, especially as it connects to Reformation theology, see Heiko A. Oberman, The Harvest of Medieval Theology: Gabriel Biel and Late Medieval Nominalism (Durham: Labyrinth, 1983); also the essays in Robert J. Bast and Andrew C. Gow (eds), Continuity and Change: The Harvest of Late Medieval and Reformation History: Essays Presented to Heiko A. Oberman on His 70th Birthday (Leiden: Brill, 2000). Oberman’s work should be read against the background of post-war Catholic scholarship which recognized the connection between nominalism and Luther, but which saw the former as degenerate and thus as leading to a further degeneration, that is, Protestantism. Oberman, by contrast, demonstrates the essential vitality of late medieval thought. For a good example of post-war Catholic scholarship, see Joseph Lortz, The Reformation in Germany, 2 vols, trans. Ronald Walls (New York: Herder and Herder, 1968). 3 See William J. Courtenay, Capacity and Volition: A History of the Distinction of Absolute and Ordained Power (Bergamo: Lubrina, 1990).

479

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 479

12/19/2000 10:14:26 AM

Notes 4 The best overall introduction to Luther’s theology is Bernhard Lohse, Martin Luther’s Theology: Its Historical and Systematic Development, trans. Roy A. Harrisville (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1999). 5 WA 1: 354; also Martin Luther, Works, 55 vols, ed. and trans. Jaroslav Pelikan, Hilton C. Oswald, and Helmy T. Lehmann (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1955–86), 31: 57. For an overview of his thinking on justification, see Carl R. Trueman, “Simul peccator et justus: Martin Luther and Justification,” in Bruce L. McCormack, Justification in Perspective: Historical Developments and Contemporary Challenges (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2006), 73–97. 6 WA 1: 364; LW 31: 55–6. 7 See Robert Kolb, “God Kills to Make Alive: Romans 6 and Luther’s Understanding of Justification (1535).” Lutheran Quarterly 12 (1998): 33–56. 8 Cf. his comments in “Against Latomus,” (1521): “Paul calls that which remains after baptism, sin; the fathers call it a weakness and imperfection rather than sin. Here we stand at the parting of the ways. I follow Paul and you the fathers—with the exception of Augustine, who generally calls it by the blunt names of fault and iniquity” (WA 8: 101; LW 32: 220). 9 WA 1: 354; LW 31: 40. 10 WA 1: 354; LW 31: 41. 11 WA 7: 54–5; LW 31: 351. 12 WA 7: 61; LW 31: 360. 13 See the article by Robert Kolb, “Luther on the Two Kinds of Righteousness,” in Timothy J. Wengert (ed.) Harvesting Martin Luther’s Reflections on Theology, Ethics, and the Church (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 38–55. 14 Indeed, in the Bondage itself, Luther thanks Erasmus for being the only one to understand what his theology was really all about: “I praise and commend you highly for this also, that unlike all the rest you alone have attacked the real issue, the essence of the matter in dispute, and have not wearied me with irrelevancies about the papacy, purgatory, indulgences, and such like trifles (for trifles they are rather than basic issues), with which almost everyone hitherto has gone hunting for me without success. You and you alone have seen the question on which everything hinges, and have aimed at the vital spot; for which I sincerely thank you, since I am only too glad to give as much attention to this subject as time and leisure permit” (WA 18: 786; LW 33: 294). 15 WA 18: 786; LW 33: 293–4. 16 On Melanchthon, see Karin Maag (ed.), Melanchthon in Europe (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1999); on specific issues surrounding justification, see the two books by Timothy J. Wengert: Human Freedom, Christian Righteousness: Phillip Melanchthon’s Exegetical Dispute with Erasmus of Rotterdam (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998); Law and Gospel: Philip Melanchthon’s Debate with John Agricola of Eisleben over Poenitentia (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1997). On the relationship of Luther and Melanchthon, see also Bengt Hägglund, “Melanchthon versus Luther: the Contemporary Struggle,” Concordia Theological Quarterly, 44 (1980): 123–33. 17 See Opera Melanchthonis, 21, 742. 18 The text is found in WA Br 6, 98–101. I have translated it in “Simul peccator et iustus,” 91, n. 42. 19 Some recent scholars, most notably a group based in Finland, have argued that Luther’s own view of justification is closer to that of Eastern Orthodox notions of theosis than to that of Melanchthon. This view, involving as it does the effective decontextualization of Luther from the University of Wittenberg is extremely contentious and problematic. For the Finnish view, see Carl E. Braaten and Robert W. Jenson (eds), Union with Christ: The New Finnish Interpretation of

480

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 480

12/19/2000 10:14:26 AM

Notes

20

21 22 23

24 25 26 27

28 29 30 31

32 33 34 35

36

37 38 39

Luther (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998); cf. the critical response by Carl R. Trueman, “Is the Finnish Line a New Beginning? A Critical Assessment of the Reading of Luther Offered by the Helsinki Circle,” Westminster Theological Journal 65 (2003). On Zwingli, see W. P. Stephens, The Theology of Huldrych Zwingli (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985); also Gottfried W. Locher, Zwingli’s Thought: New Perspectives (Leiden: Brill, 1981). See Stephens, The Theology of Huldrych Zwingli, 118–20. See Stephens, The Theology of Huldrych Zwingli, 160. The best introduction to Calvin’s life and thought remains Francois Wendel, Calvin: Origins and Development of His Religious Thought, trans. P. Mairet (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1997); on his view of justification, see Barbara Pitkin, “Faith and Justification,” in Herman Selderhuis, The Calvin Handbook (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2009), 294–9. Institutes 3.11.1. Institutes 3.1.2. Institutes 3.13.1. The Augsburg Confession, Latin text and English translation, can be found in Robert Kolb and Timothy J. Wengert, The Book of Concord (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2000). The article on justification is on pages 38–41. See Kolb and Wengert, The Book of Concord, 345–480. Philip Schaff, The Creeds of Christendom, 3 vols (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1993), 3: 218. Schaff, The Creeds of Christendom, 3: 366–71. These documents, along with others, are found in Schaff. A more thorough collection of Reformed confessions is that of E. F. K. Műller, Die Bekenntnisschriften der reformierten Kirche (Leipzig, 1903). For the homilies, see Certain Sermons or Homilies Appointed To Be Read in Churches (Philadelphia, 1855). See W. J. McGothlin, Baptist Confessions of Faith (Philadelphia, PA: American Baptist Publication Society, 1911), 1–23. On Regensburg, see Peter Matheson, Cardinal Contarini at Regensburg (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972). On double justification in Protestantism, see Carl R. Trueman, Luther’s Legacy: Salvation and English Reformers, 1525–56 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), 102–4; also, D. Fenlon, Heresy and Obedience in Tridentine Italy: Cardinal Pole and the Counter Reformation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972), 53–61. A more positive Protestant assessment of Regensburg (and Trent) on justification than mine is that offered by A. N. S. Lane, “A Tale of Two Imperial Cities: Justification at Regensburg (1541) and Trent (1546047),” in McCormack, Justification in Perspective, 119–45. On Trent, see Hubert Jedin, The History of the Council of Trent, 2 vols, trans. Ernest Graf (New York: Nelson, 1957–61). See H. J. Schroeder (ed.), The Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent (St Louis, MO: Herder, 1941). This contains both Latin and English text. Hans Küng famously tried to demonstrate significant common ground between Trent and Protestantism, by way of interaction with the theology of Karl Barth, in his first book, Justification: The Doctrine of Karl Barth, trans. T. Collins (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2004), though it is arguable that what he achieves is simply clarification of the common Christological basis for justification in Protestantism and Tridentine Catholicism. The key points at issue (imputation, two kinds of righteousness) are left untouched.

481

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 481

12/19/2000 10:14:26 AM

Notes Chapter 5 1 A deep study of this topic includes: H. Bornkamm, Luther and the Old Testament (Mifflintown: Sigler Press, 1997), 81–218; E. W. Gritsch, “Scripture and Tradition,” in Martin-God’s Court Jester (repr. Ramsey: Sigler Press, 1990), 92–110 and M. L. Mattox, “Luther’s Interpretation of Scripture: Biblical Understanding in Trinitarian Shape,” in Paul R. Hinlicky, ed., The Substance of Faith. Luther’s Doctrinal Theology for Today (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2008), 11–58. 2 According to Luther in his Exposition of the 51st Psalm (1532), this is even worse. The “theology of reason” counsels “despair in the midst of sin” (LW 12: 321; WA 40II: 342.23f.). This is similar to Luther’s position during the Heidelberg Disputation (1518) where, in his Thesis 21 he stated: “A theologian of glory calls evil good and good evil. A theologian of the cross calls the thing what is actually is” (LW 31: 53; WA 1: 362.21f.). 3 For a comprehensive presentation of the functions of the Word of God and a look at the historical background of Luther’s understanding see: Robert Kolb and Charles P. Arand, The Genius of Luther’s Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2008), 129–59. 4 In the beginnings of The Reformation there were evangelical Christians (e.g., Pastor Jacob Strauss at Eisenach or Wolfgang Stein at Weimar) who proposed to apply Old Testament laws on interest rates instead laws of the German state in Saxony. Luther opposed to it, because such attitude actually distorted the meaning and intention of the Word of God. Luther thus wrote a treatise: How Christians Should Regard Moses (1525) dealing with the proper understanding of the word of God (see esp. LW 35: 166–8; WA 16: 371.13–375.14). 5 LW 35: 170; WA 16: 384.19–385.9; cf. WA 36: 12.22–27 Luther’s Sermon on Gal. 3.23–29; Predigt am Tage der Beschneidung (1532). 6 To be sure, Luther’s criterion of personal relevance is not to be confused with modern subjectivism in judging the relevance of the Word of God for according to my own criteria. 7 For a clear distinction of those two terms see: C. E. Braaten, Principles of Lutheran Theology (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1983), 110. 8 WA 39I: 552.12f. Die Dritte Disputation gegen die Antinomer (1538): “Haec qui bene novit distinguere, bonus est theologus.” Luther clearly means the distinguishing between law and gospel, between sin and righteousness. Cf. WA 36: 9.24–31. Wie das Gesetz und Evangelium recht gründlich zu unterscheiden sind (1532) and WA 7: 502.34f. Enarrationes (1521). A nice passage in German is recorded in WA 36: 8.13–23.24; Predigt am Tage der Beschneidung (1532). 9 This helps Luther make a distinction between concepts which were often taken for granted. For example, Luther abandoned the scholastic distinction between venial and mortal sins and replaced it by distinction between original and actual sin. In his Exposition of the 51st Psalm he states: “From them [words from the Bible] spiritual men learn to distinguish between sinner and sinner, between God and God” (LW 12: 321; WA 40II: 342.28f.). 10 I.E. De servo arbitrio, 1525 (LW 33: 33; WA 18: 779.17–22): “For unless everything said about Christ and grace were said antithetically, so as to be set over against its opposite—for instance, that outside of Christ there is nothing but Satan, apart from grace nothing but wrath, apart from light only darkness, apart from the way only error, apart from the truth only a lie, apart from life only death—what, I ask you, would be the point of all the discourses of the apostles and of Scripture as a whole?” 11 LW 35: 162; WA 16: 366.28–31. 12 B. Lohse, Martin Luther. An Introduction to His Life and Work (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1986), 157.

482

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 482

12/19/2000 10:14:26 AM

Notes 13 LW 35: 237; WA DB 8: 13.16–18. Cf. Luther’s treatise A Brief Introduction on What to Look for and Expect in the Gospels (1522); LW 35: 122; WA 10 I: 1. 14.16–15.15. 14 LW 35: 169; WA 16: 381.28–32. 15 LW 35: 162; WA 16: 367.19f. 16 The “clean heart” in Luther’s Bible translation is a term that encompasses the soul (anima), spirit (spiritus), intellect (intellectus), will (voluntas) and feelings (affectus) of a person (LW 12: 379; WA 40II: 425.16–20). 17 LW 35: 163; WA 16: 370.29–371.25. 18 LW 35: 240; WA DB 8: 17.34f. 19 LW 35: 366; WA BD 7: 3.23–5.3. 20 LW 35: 366; WA BD 7: 5.32–34. 21 For deeper understanding of this development in Luther’s theology regarding original sin see his Lectures on Romans, esp. chapters 4–7, Disputation Against Scholastic Theology (1517) LW 31: 3–15, WA 1: 224–8, and the second part in Against Latomus (1521) LW 32: 201–60; WA 8: 89.25–126.14. 22 LW 35: 242; WA DB 8: 23.7. Cf. CA II: 37.1–38.2. 23 LW 35: 367; WA BD 7: 5.27f. 24 Cf. Ap. IV, The Book of Concord, 124. Concerning the aspect of the terrifying power of law see Luther’s exegesis of Gal. 3.23 in Lectures on Galatians (1535) LW 26: 336–40; WA 40 I: 518.25–523.29. 25 On the first and second use of the law see for example Luther’s Lectures on Galatians (1531) LW 26: 308–10; WA 40 I: 478.14–483.13. 26 LW 35: 242; WA DB 8: 21.32–23.6. Cf. more extensively Against Latomus (LW 32: 176–9; WA 8: 69.35–72.32). 27 Cf. LW 26: 313–16; WA 40 I: 487.15–490.35. 28 Luther’s position is reflected in the following quotation: “For the gospel teaches exclusively what has been given us by God” (LW 35: 162; WA 16: 367.23f.). Cf. LW 35: 118; WA 10 I.1: 10.6–19. Important is the understanding of gospel as an effective word: “Evangelium enim facit omnia si in ispsum credimus, consolatur tristes, erigit deiectos, confortat pusillanimes et omnem infirmitatem animae tolit” (WA 7: 506.26–8). 29 LW 35: 358; WA DB 6: 2.23–4.11. 30 Timothy Wengert, Law and Gospel: Philipp Melanchthon’s Debate with Johann Agricola of Eisleben over Poenitentia (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1997); M. Brecht, Martin Luther, vol. 2 (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1990), 264–6. 31 A historical introduction is offered by M. Brecht, Martin Luther, vol. 3, 156–71. Luther’s writings on the subject can be found in WA 39 I: 32.334–584. For a clearly formulated understanding of the Law see FC esp. art. V, The Book of Concord, 581. 32 LW 35: 121f.; WA 10 I.1: 14.13. 33 See Thesis 28 of the Heidelberg Disputation in LW 31: 56; WA 1: 365.1–28; extensively in The Freedom of a Christian (1520) LW 31: 361. WA 7: 32.4–6. Luther says in his Preface to the Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans (1522): “Thus good works emerge from faith itself.” LW 35: 369; WA DB 7: 22. 34 LW 35: 120; WA 10 I.1: 12.14–13.2. 35 O. Bayer, Martin Luthers Theology, trans. T. Trapp (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2008), 292. 36 Inst. (1536) I: G.27, in Institutes of the Christian Religion, trans. and ed. F. L. Battles, rev. edn (London: Collins, 1986), 30f. 37 Inst. (1559) II:IX.4, in LCC vol. XX, 427. 38 See, for example, A. McGrath, Iustitia Dei. A History of the Christian Doctrine of Justification, from 1500 to the Present Day (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986) and J. Wayne Baker, Heinrich Bullinger and Covenant (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1980).

483

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 483

12/19/2000 10:14:27 AM

Notes 39 40 41 42

43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

52 53 54 55

Inst. (1559) II.ix.4, in LCC vol. XX, 427. Inst. (1559) II: XI.1–14, in LCC vol. XX, 449–64. See Calvin’s Commentary on Romans, chapter 7. Inst. (1559) II: VII.1, in LCC vol. XX, 348–50. See as well page 349: “Yet that very type show that God did not command sacrifices in order to busy his worshipers with earthly exercises. Rather, he did so that he might lift their minds higher.” See E. Dowey, Knowledge of God in Calvin’s Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1994) reprint edition. Inst. (1536), I: H.33, in Institutes of the Christian Religion, 35–7. Inst. (1559) II: VII.6, in LCC vol. XX, 354–5. Inst. (1559) II: VII.3, in LCC vol. XX, 352. See Calvin’s Commentary on Romans, chapter 7. An important passage on this topic can also be seen in the Institutes II.x.7–14. Institutes (1559) II: VII.9, in LCC vol. XX, 357–8. Inst. (1559) II: X.2 and II: IX.4. Inst. (1559) II: VII.2 and II: VII.8. Inst. (1559) II: IX.3: “Only, we must note a difference in the nature or quality of the promises: the gospel points out with the finger what the law foreshadowed under types,” in LCC vol. XX, 426. Inst. (1559) II: VII.10, in LCC vol. XX, 358. Inst. (1559) II: VII.10, in LCC vol. XX, 359. Inst. (1559) II: VII.11, in LCC vol. XX, 360. Inst. (1559) II: VII.12, in LCC vol. XX, 360.

Chapter 6 1 Martin Luther, Luther ’s Works (St Louis, MO/Philadelphia, PA: Concordia/ Fortress, 1958–86), 33: 293. 2 J. D. Moore, English Hypothetical Universalism, (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 218. 3 Cambridge University Library, MS Dd XIV.28 (4), fo. 25r. 4 William Twisse, The Doctrine of the Synod of Dort and Arlesi, (1631), 137. 5 J. K. S Reid, “Introduction,” in John Calvin, Concerning the Eternal Predestination of God (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1997), 9. 6 A. Furnham, The Protestant Work Ethic, (London: Whurr, 1990), 2. 7 P. Seaver, Wallington’s World: A Puritan Artisan in Seventeenth-Century London, (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1985) 124–6. 8 See, Joel R. Beeke, Assurance of Faith: Calvin, English Puritanism, and the Dutch Second Reformation, (New York: Peter Lang, 1991), 164. 9 George Gillespie, The Works of George Gillespie, reprint edition (Edmonton, AB: Still Waters Revival Books, 1991), II: 104. 10 Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, trans. G. M. Giger, ed. J. T. Dennison, Jr. (Phillipsburg: P & R Publishing, 1992), I: 372–3. Chapter 7 1 Martin Bucer (1491–1551) was influenced by Luther at the Heidelberg Disputation (1518) to leave the Dominican Order and become one of the leading Reformers of Strasbourg. He was a major influence upon Calvin during Calvin’s exile in Strasbourg. His last two years were spent in Cambridge as Regius Professor of Divinity where he penned De Regno Christi (The Kingdom of Christ, 1550) that set forth for Edward VI a vision of reform of the church and renewal of society including social welfare. Ulrich Zwingli (1484–1531), the Reformer of Zurich, although in conflict with Luther over the Lord’s Supper, was nevertheless early on

484

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 484

12/19/2000 10:14:27 AM

Notes

2

3

4 5

6 7 8 9

10 11 12 13 14 15 16

17 18 19 20

21 22 23 24 25

influenced by Luther’s writings. John Calvin (1509–64), the Reformer of Geneva and through his followers influential in France, the Netherlands, and England, is often regarded as Luther’s disciple, seen already in Calvin’s Insititutes (1536ff.). Cf. Carter Lindberg, ed., The Reformation Theologians (Oxford: Blackwell, 2002). See, for example, Milan Opocenský and Páraic Réamon, eds, Justification and Sanctification in the Traditions of the Reformation (Geneva: World Alliance of Reformed Churches, 1999). Hans J. Hillerbrand, “Radicalism in the Early Reformation: Varieties of Reformation in Church and Society,” in idem, ed., Radical Tendencies in the Reformation: Divergent Perspectives (Kirksville, MO: Sixteenth Century Journal Publishers, 1986), 25–41, here 39. The Chronicle of the Hutterian Brethren, trans. and ed. the Hutterian Brethren (Rifton, NY: Plough Publishing House, 1987), vol. 1: 41. Ulrich Bubenheimer, “Andreas Rudolff Bodenstein von Karlstadt,” in Wolfgang Merklein, ed., Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt, 500-Jahre-Feier (Karlstadt: Arbeitsgruppe Bodenstein, 1980), 5–58, here 40. Hans-Jürgen Goertz, Innere und Äussere Ordnung in der Theologie Thomas Müntzers (Leiden: Brill, 1967). Carter Lindberg, “Do Lutherans Shout Justification But Whisper Sanctification?” Lutheran Quarterly 13 (1999): 1–20, here 3. David V. N. Bagchi, Luther’s Earliest Opponents: Catholic Controversialists, 1518–1525 (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1991), 124–5. Berndt Hamm, “What was the Reformation Doctrine of Justification?” in C. Scott Dixon, ed., The German Reformation. The Essential Readings (Oxford: Blackwell, 1999), 53–90, here 82. Matthieu Arnold, “Martin Luther, Theologe der Nächstenliebe,” Lutherjahrbuch 78 (2008): 67–90, here 85–90. Hamm, “What Was the Reformation Doctrine of Justification?” 58, 61. LW 31: 12, “Disputation Against Scholastic Theology,” 1517; WA 1: 226. Inst. III, 10, 2; 726–7. BC 301. Hans Küng, Great Christian Thinkers (New York: Continuum, 1995), 142. Stefan Streiff, “Novis linguis loqui” Martin Luthers Disputation über Joh 1,14 “verbum caro factum est” aus dem Jahr 1539 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1993), 23. Gerhard Ebeling, Luther. An Introduction to His Thought (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress, 1970), 27. Brian Cummings, The Literary Culture of the Reformation: Grammar and Grace (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002). Mark Valeri, “Religion, Discipline, and the Economy in Calvin’s Geneva,” Sixteenth Century Journal 28/1 (1997): 123–42. Eric Gritsch and Robert Jenson, Lutheranism: The Theological Movement and Its Confessional Writings (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1976), 42. Cf. Hamm, “What Was the Reformation Doctrine of Justification?” 68–70. Illustrations in Carter Lindberg, The European Reformations, 2nd rev. edn (Oxford: Wiley Blackwell, 2009). LW 45: 172, “Preface to the Ordinance for a Common Chest,” 1523; WA 12: 13. WA 36: 340, “Sermon on Matthew 22,” September 29, 1532. Cf. Luther’s point “that a Christian lives, not in himself, but in Christ and in his neighbor” (LW 31: 371). Elsie Anne McKee, “The Character and Significance of John Calvin’s Teaching on Social and Economic Issues,” in Edward Dommen and James D. Bratt, eds, John

485

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 485

12/19/2000 10:14:27 AM

Notes

26 27 28

29 30 31 32 33 34

35 36

37

38 39

40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50

Calvin Rediscovered: The Impact of His Social and Economic Thought (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2007), 3–24, here 6, 15–18. Cf. Valeri, “Religion, Discipline, and the Economy in Calvin’s Geneva,” 126, 136, 141–2. Westhelle, “Communication and the Transgression of Language 61. Doug Marlette, Shred This Book! (Atlanta, GA: Peachtree Publishers Ltd., 1988), 156. Vitor Westhelle, “Communication and the Transgression of Language in Martin Luther,” in Timothy J. Wengert, ed., The Pastoral Luther: Essays on Martin Luther’s Practical Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2009), 59–84, here 64. LW 35: 374–5, “Preface to Romans,” 1522; WA DB 7: 16. LW 31: 372–3, “Freedom of a Christian,” 1520; WA 7: 70 (Latin). LW 31: 360–1, “Freedom of a Christian,” 1520; WA 7: 32 (German) and 61 (Latin). LW 31: 365, “Freedom of a Christian,” 1520; WA 7: 34 (German) and 64 (Latin). Inst. IV, 12, 1; 1254–5. LW 37: 364–5, “Confession Concerning Christ’s Supper,” 1528; WA 26: 504–5. For a discussion of Luther’s view of these three “estates” see Oswald Bayer, Living By Faith: Justification and Sanctification (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2003). LW 21: 237, “Commentary upon the Sermon on the Mount,” 1532; WA 32: 495. Hans J. Hillerbrand, “The Road Less Traveled? Reflections on the Enigma of Lutheran Spirituality,” in Daniel N. Harmelink, ed., Let Christ Be Christ: Theology, Ethics & World Religions in the Two Kingdoms. Essays in Honor of the Sixty-Fifth Birthday of Charles L. Manske (Huntington Beach, CA: Tentatio Press, 1999), 129–40, here 140. The image is online: www.qub.ac.uk/iccj/sdixon/REFORMAT/ENG4/GEI441F. HTM. See also Max Geisberg, ed., Der deutsche Einblatt-Holzschnitt in der ersten Hälfte des 16. Jahrhunderts (Munich: H. Schmidt, 1923). LW 44: 178–9, “To the Christian Nobility,” 1520; WA 6: 442. Steven Ozment, The Age of Reform 1250-1550. An Intellectual and Religious History of Late Medieval and Reformation Europe (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1980), 381. See also Scott Hendrix, “The Reform of Marriage in Calvin’s Geneva,” in David M. Whitford, ed., Caritas et Reformatio: Essays on Church and Society in Honor of Carter Lindberg (St. Louis, MO: Concordia, 2002), 113–31; John Witte, Jr, From Sacrament to Contract. Marriage, Religion, and Law in the Western Tradition (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1997); and John Witte, Jr and Robert M. Kingdon, Sex, Marriage, and Family in John Calvin’s Geneva, vol. 1: Courtship, Engagement, and Marriage (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2005). Bernd Moeller, “Wenzel Links Hochzeit: Über Sexualität, Keuschheit, und Ehe in der frühen Reformation,” Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche, 97 (2000): 317–42, here 341–2. LW 54: 441, “Table Talk, no. 5513,” WA 5: 206. LW 54: 161, “Table Talk, no. 1658,” WA 2: 166. Jacques Rossiaud, Medieval Prostitution (Oxford: Blackwell, 1995), 80–4, and passim. LW 44: 214–15, “To the Christian Nobility,” 1520; WA 6: 467; LW 3: 259, “Lecture on Genesis 9,” WA 43: 60. LW 46: 267, “On Marriage Matters,” 1530; WA 30/3: 207. LW 45: 39, “The Estate of Marriage,” 1522; WA 10/2: 294. LW 44: 130, “To the Christian Nobility,” 1520; WA 6: 409. Vilmos Vajta, Die Theologie des Gottesdienstes bei Luther (Stockholm: Svenska Kyrkans Diakonistyrelses Bokförlag, 1952), 314. Michel Mollat, The Poor in the Middle Ages: An Essay in Social History (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1986), 44. Frontispiece in Ole Peter Grell and Andrew Cunningham, eds, Health Care and Poor Relief in Protestant Europe 1500-1700 (London and New York: Routledge, 1997).

486

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 486

12/19/2000 10:14:28 AM

Notes

51 52

53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62

63

64

65 66 67 68 69

70 71 72 73

Also in Max Geisberg, ed., Der deutsche Einblatt-Holzschnitt in der ersten Hälfte des 16. Jahrhunderts (Munich: H. Schmidt, 1923), and online at www.qub.ac.uk/iccj/ sdixon/REFORMAT/ENG4/GEI441F.HTM. LW 9: 147–8, “Lecture on Deuteronomy 15,” 1525; WA 14: 657. See Ole Peter Grell and Andrew Cunningham, eds, Health Care and Poor Relief in Protestant Europe 1500–1700 (London and New York: Routledge, 1997); Carter Lindberg, Beyond Charity: Reformation Initiatives for the Poor (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1993); Carter Lindberg, “No Greater Service to God than Christian Love: Insights from Martin Luther,” in Foster R. McCurley, ed., Social Ministry in the Lutheran Tradition (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2008), 50–68; Elsie Anne McKee, John Calvin on the Diaconate and Liturgical Almsgiving (Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1984); Lee Wandel Palmer, Always Among Us: Images of the Poor in Zwingli’s Zurich (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990). LW 21: 183, “Commentary on the Sermon on the Mount,” WA 32 (Mt. 6.24). WA 51: 422–3, “That Clergy Should Preach against Usury,” 1540. WA 51: 396, “That Clergy Should Preach against Usury,” 1540. WA 51: 362, 417; LW 21: 180, 221; 25: 172; 13: 60; 45: 270. John H. Leith, John Calvin’s Doctrine of the Christian Life (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1989), 196. Mark Valeri, “Religion, Discipline, and the Economy in Calvin’s Geneva,” Sixteenth Century Journal 28/1 (1997): 123–42, here 140. Mark Valeri, “Religion, Discipline, and the Economy in Calvin’s Geneva,” 137. BC, 48. BC, 48, 50. David M. Whitford, Tyranny and Resistance: The Magdeburg Confession and the Lutheran Tradition (St Louis, MO: Concordia, 2001); John Witte, Jr, Law and Protestantism. The Legal Teachings of the Lutheran Reformation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002); John Witte, Jr, The Reformation of Rights. Law, Religion, and Human Rights in Early Modern Calvinism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007); John Witte, Jr, “Prophets, Priests, and Kings: John Milton and the Reformation of Rights and Liberties in England,” Emory Law Journal 57/6 (2008): 1527–1604. Gregory J. Miller, “Luther on the Turks and Islam,” in Timothy J. Wengert, ed., Harvesting Martin Luther’s Reflections on Theology, Ethics, and the Church (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 185–203, here 185. Gregory J. Miller, “Fighting Like a Christian: The Ottoman Advance and the Development of Luther’s Doctrine of Just War,” in David M. Whitford, ed., Caritas et Reformatio: Essays on Church and Society in Honor of Carter Lindberg (St. Louis, MO: Concordia, 2002), 41–57, here 48, 50. Johannes Ehmann, “Türken und Islam—Luthers theologisches Unterscheidung. Überlegungen zu ihrer Aktualität,” Luther 2 (2007): 89–94, here 91. LW 46: 118; WA 19: 645. LW 21: 40, “Commentary on the Sermon on the Mount,” WA 32: 330. LW 13: 57, “Commentary on Psalm 82,” WA 31/1: 203. Heiko A. Oberman, “Teufelsdreck: Eschatology and Scatology in the ‘Old Luther’,” in idem, The Impact of the Reformation (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1994), 51–68, here 62. WA 28: 360–1. LW 13: 49, “Commentary on Psalm 82,” WA 31/1: 196. LW 13: 50, “Commentary on Psalm 82,” WA 31/1: 196–7. LW 13: 51.

487

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 487

12/19/2000 10:14:28 AM

Notes Chapter 8 1 http://history.hanover.edu/texts/Trent/ct07sbc.htm 2 Ibid. Canon VII. 3 Luther’s Works, American edition 36: 65. 4 LW 35: 86–7. 5 For his liturgical rites, see LW 53. 6 See Pamela Biel, “Let the Fiancées Beware: Luther, the Lawyers and Betrothal in Sixteenth Century Saxony”, in Bruce Gordon, ed., Protestant History and Identity in Sixteenth Century Europe (Aldershot: Scola Press, 1996), 121–58. 7 W. P. Stevens, “Zwingli’s Sacramental Views,” in E. J. Furcha and H. Wayne Pipkin, eds, Prophet, Pastor, Protestant (Alison Park, PA: Pickwick Publications), 155–69, 158. 8 John D. Zizioulas, Being as Communion. Studies in Personhood and the Church (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1985). 9 See Bart Jan Spruyt, Cornelius Henrici Hoen (Honius) and his Epistle on the Eucharist (1525) (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2006), 232. 10 Brian Gerrish, “The Lord’s Supper in the Reformed Confessions,” in Donald K. McKim, ed., Major Themes in the Reformed Tradition (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans), 245–58. 11 Texts in J. D. C. Fisher, Christian Initiation. The Reformation Period (London: SPCK, 1970). 12 W. P. Stephens, The Theology of Huldrych Zwingli (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986), 198, note 11. 13 Lee Palmer Wandel, “Envisioning God: Image and liturgy in Reformation Zurich,” Sixteenth Century Journal 24 (1993). 14 Bruce Gordon, “Transcendence and Community in Zwinglian Worship: The Liturgy of 1525 in Zurich,” in R. N. Swanson, ed., Continuity and Change in Christian Worship. Studies in Church History vol. 35 (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1999), 128–50, 143. 15 W. P. Stephens, The Holy Spirit in the Theology of Martin Bucer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970); René Bornert, Le Reforme Protestante du Culte à Strasbourg au XVIe Siècle (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1981). 16 Cited by W. P. Stephens, The Holy Spirit in the Theology of Martin Bucer, 242. 17 Bornert, Le Reforme, 317. 18 The Loci Communes of Philip Melanchthon [1521] trans. Charles Leander Hill (Boston, MA: Meador Publishing Company, 1944), 242. 19 Ibid., 258. 20 Theodore G. Tappert, The Book of Concord (Philadelphia, MA: Fortress Press, 1959), 34. 21 Tappert, The Book of Concord, 580–1. 22 Elfriede Jacobs, Die Sakramentslehre Wilhelm Farels (Zurich: Theologische Verlag, 1978). 23 For a full explanation of this term, see Brian Gerrish, “The Lord’s Supper in the Reformed Confessions,” in Major Themes in the Reformed Tradition, ed. Donald K. McKim (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1992), 245–58. 24 1559 Institutes 4.17.11. 25 Ibid., 4.7.12. 26 P. Schaff, The Creeds of Christendom, vol. 3 (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House edition, 1998), 378–9. 27 Ibid., 380–1. 28 Schaff, op. cit., 328. 29 Cited in Jill Raitt, The Eucharistic Theology of Theodore Beza (Chambersburg: AAR, 1972), 21–2. 30 For a good recent discussion see Gordon Jeanes, Signs of God’s Promise. Thomas Cranmer’s Sacramental Theology and the Book of Common Prayer (London and New York: T&T Clark, 2008).

488

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 488

12/19/2000 10:14:28 AM

Notes 31 Diarmaid MacCulloch, Thomas Cranmer, A Life (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1996); Gordon Jeanes, Signs of God’s Promise, note 24. 32 Jeanes, Signs of God’s Promise, 183–4. 33 G. E. Corre, ed., A Catechism Written in Latin by Alexander Nowell, Dean of St. Paul’s: Together with the Same Catechism Translated into English by Thomas Norton (Cambridge: Parker Society, Cambridge University Press, 1853), 205. 34 William Perkins, Works 3 vols, J. Legatt and C. Legg, Cambridge, 1616–18, 1.71, 547. 35 Ibid., 1.590. 36 Richard Hooker, Of the Lawes of ecclesiasticall Politie (Cambridge, MA: Folger Library edition, 1975–94), Book 5:50.3. 37 See Bryan D. Spinks, Sacraments, Ceremonies and the Stuart Divines (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2002). 38 Schaff, vol. 3, 467–8. 39 Craig’s Catechism in T. F. Torrance, ed., The School of Faith (London: James Clarke, 1959). 40 See Bryan D. Spinks, Sacraments and Ceremonies, passim. 41 Cited in Rollin Stely Armour, Anabaptist Baptism. A Representative Study, Wipf and Stock reprint, 1998, p. 43. 42 Armour, ibid., p. 118; John D. Rempel, The Lord’s Supper in Anabaptism (Waterloo: Herald Press, 1993). 43 See John C. Wenger, The Complete Writings of Menno Simons (Scottdale: Herald Press, 1956), 125. 44 Albert Peel and Leland H. Carson, eds, The Writings of Robert Harrison and Robert Browne (London: George Allen and Unwin Ltd, 1953), 279. 45 www.apuritansmind.com/Creeds/JohnSmythShortConfession.htm 46 For subsequent developments see, Stanley K. Fowler, More Than a Symbol (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 2002). Chapter 9 1 Abbreviations used in the text are as follows. BC = Theodore G. Tappert, ed., The Book of Concord: The Confessions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1959). WA = D. Martin Luthers Werke (Weimarer Ausgabe, 1883–1955). LW = Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut T. Lehman, eds, Luther’s Works (Philadelphia: Fortress Press and St Louis, MO: Concordia Press, 1955–). PS = Parker Society edition of the works of the English Reformers. 2 See Paul Avis, Beyond the Reformation: Authority, Primacy and Unity in the Conciliar Tradition (London and New York: T&T Clark, 2006). 3 Thomas Cranmer, Works (PS), vol. 2, 13. 4 See Alister McGrath, The Intellectual Origins of the European Reformation (Oxford: Blackwell, 1987). 5 See Gottfried Locher, Sign of the Advent: A Study in Protestant Ecclesiology (Fribourg: Academic Press, 2004). 6 See Scott H. Hendrix, Recultivating the Vineyard: The Reformation Agendas of Christianization (Louisville, KY and London: Westminster John Knox Press, 2004); Jaroslav Pelikan, Spirit Versus Structure: Luther and the Institutions of the Church (London: Collins, 1968). A more advanced study in this area is John Witte, Jr, Law and Protestantism: The Legal Teachings of the Lutheran Reformation (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002). 7 W. P. Stephens, The Theology of Huldrych Zwingli (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986), 268; see the whole of chapter 12. 8 John Calvin’s ecclesiology is developed at length in book IV of his Institutes of the Christian Religion. There is an older translation by Henry Beveridge (London: James

489

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 489

12/19/2000 10:14:28 AM

Notes

9 10

11 12

13

14

15 16 17

18 19 20 21 22 23 24

25

Clarke, n.d.) and a newer one by Ford L. Battles, ed. John T. McNeill (London: SCM Press, Library of Christian Classics, 1961). Locher, Sign of the Advent, 164. See Nicholas M. Healy, Church, World and the Christian Life: Practical-Prophetic Ecclesiology (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000). Paul Avis, Reshaping Ecumenical Theology (London and New York: T&T Clark, 2010). Locher, Sign of the Advent, 189. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Communion of Saints, trans. Ronald Gregor Smith, et al. (New York: Harper & Row, 1963), 101; Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, edited by T. F. Torrance and G. W. Bromiley (London and New York: T&T Clark, 1936-), IV.2. 653. On Richard Hooker’s ecclesiology see Paul Avis, Anglicanism and the Christian Church: Theological Resources in Historical Perspective, 2nd edn (London and New York: T&T Clark, 2002), chapter 2. See further on Luther’s view of the Church the relevant chapters in Paul Althaus, The Theology of Martin Luther, trans. Robert C. Schulz (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1966); Bernhard Lohse, Martin Luther’s Theology: Its Historical and Systematic Development, trans. Roy A. Harrisville (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1999). On Bucer’s ecclesiology see David F. Wright, ed., Martin Bucer: Reforming Church and Community (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1984). Stephen Brachlow, The Communion of Saints: Radical Puritan and Separatist Ecclesiology 1570–1625 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), 117. Further on Calvin’s view of the Church see generally François Wendel, Calvin: The Origins and Development of his Religious Thought, trans. Philip Mairet (London: Collins, 1963); and more particularly B. C. Milner, Calvin’s Doctrine of the Church (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1970). Cf. F. H. Littell, The Anabaptist View of the Church, 2nd edn (Boston, MA: Starr King Press, 1958). See Brachlow, The Communion of Saints. On Field’s ecclesiology see Avis, Anglicanism and the Christian Church, chapter 2. See Avis, The Church in the Theology of the Reformers, Part II. See also Owen Chadwick, The Early Reformation on the Continent (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), chapter 10. For Calvin’s ecclesiology and doctrine of the ministry see Alexandre Ganoczy, Calvin: Théologien de L’Église et du Ministère (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1964). See, for example, Article XXVI of the Church of England’s Thirty-Nine Articles (1571): “Although in the visible Church the evil be ever mingled with the good, and sometimes the evil have chief authority in the Ministration of the Word and Sacraments, yet forasmuch as they do not the same in their own name, but in Christ’s, and do minister by his commission and authority, we may use their Ministry, both in hearing the Word of God, and in receiving of the Sacraments. Neither is the effect of Christ’s ordinance taken away by their wickedness, nor the grace of God’s gifts diminished from such as by faith and rightly do receive the Sacraments ministered unto them; which be effectual, because of Christ’s institution and promise, although they be ministered by evil men.” See Avis, The Church in the Theology of the Reformers, Part III. For a contemporary treatment of mission and ministry issues, that draws on the insights of the Reformers, as on other ecumenical resources, see P. Avis, A Ministry Shaped by Mission (London and New York: T&T Clark, 2005).

Chapter 10 1 Scott H. Hendrix, Recultivating the Vineyard: The Reformation Agendas of Christianization (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2004). 2 Martin Luther, Large Catechism, in The Book of Concord, ed. Robert Kolb and Timothy J. Wengert (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2000), 464.

490

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 490

12/19/2000 10:14:29 AM

Notes 3 For example, John Bossy, “The Mass as a Social Institution 1200–1700,” Past and Present 100 (1983): 29–61; Frank C. Senn, The People’s Work: A Social History of the Liturgy (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2006), 185–7. 4 Bard Thompson, Liturgies of the Western Church (Philadelphia, PA: Augsburg Fortress Press, 1980), 194. 5 John Rempel, “Mennonites,” in The Oxford History of Christian Worship, ed. Geoffrey Wainwright and Karen B. Westerfield Tucker (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 548. 6 Paul V. Marshall, “Anglican Spirituality,” in Protestant Spiritual Traditions, ed. Frank C. Senn (New York: Paulist Press, 1986), 130. 7 Anne T. Thayer, “Learning to Worship in the Later Middle Ages,” Archive for Reformation History 99 (2008): 45–50. 8 Martin Luther, Deutsche Messe, in Thompson, Liturgies of the Western Church, 124. 9 Katharine J. Lualdi, “A Body of Beliefs and Believers: Sacramental Confession and Parish Worship in Reformation France,” in Penitence in the Age of Reformations, ed. Katharine J. Lualdi and Anne T. Thayer (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2002), 134–51. 10 The Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, trans. H. J. Schroeder, O. P. (Rockford, IL: Tan Books and Publishers, 1978), 148. 11 John W. O’Malley, The First Jesuits (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993), 92. 12 Frank C. Senn, The People’s Work: A Social History of the Liturgy (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2006), 195. 13 Trent, 12. 14 James F. White, “The Spatial Setting,” in Wainwright and Tucker, The Oxford History of Christian Worship (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 804. 15 Trent, 51. 16 Trent, 150. 17 Thayer, “Learning to Worship,” 57–61; Trent, 78. 18 Martin Luther, “The Babylonian Captivity of the Church,” in Three Treatises, 2nd rev. edn (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1970), 123–260. 19 James F. White, Protestant Worship: Traditions in Transition (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1989), 36–8. 20 Senn, People’s Work, 228. 21 WA 18: 69. 22 Vilmos Vajta, Luther on Worship: An Interpretation, trans. U. S. Leupold (Philadelphia, PA: Muhlenberg Press, 1958), 3–4. 23 Thompson, Liturgies of the Western Church, 144. 24 Aidan Kavanagh, quoted in Nathan D. Mitchell, “Reforms, Protestant and Catholic,” in Wainwright and Tucker, The Oxford History of Christian Worship, 325. 25 John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, trans. Theodore Beveridge (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1989), 3.2.7. 26 Cynthia Hahn, “Visio Dei: Changes in Medieval Visuality,” in Visuality Before and Beyond the Renaissance: Seeing as Others Saw, ed. Robert S. Nelson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 174–6. 27 “Preface,” The First and Second Prayer Books of Edward VI (London: J.M. Dent & Sons, 1957), 3. 28 Luther, Deutsche Messe, in Thompson, Liturgies of the Western Church, 129. 29 WA 10/1: 48. 30 Hughes Oliphant Old. The Reading and Preaching of the Scriptures in the Worship of the Christian Church, vol. 4: The Age of the Reformation (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2002), 42. 31 Ulrich Zwingli, Huldreich Zwinglis Smatliche Werke, vol. 1, ed. Emil Elgi, Georg Finsler et al. (Berlin: C. A. Schwetschke und Sohn, 1905), 559.

491

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 491

12/19/2000 10:14:29 AM

Notes 32 Ulrich Zwingli, “Of the Clarity and Certainty of the Word of God,” in Huldrych Zwingli, ed. G. R. Potter (London: Edward Arnold), 30. 33 Calvin, 3rd sermon on Jacob and Esau, quoted in John H. Leith, “Calvin’s Doctrine of the Proclamation of the Word and Its Significance for Today,” in John Calvin and the Church: A Prism of Reform, ed. Timothy George (Louisville, KY: Westminster/ John Knox Press, 1990), 227, n. 31. 34 Balthasar Hubmaier, “A Christian Catechism,” in Balthasar Hubmaier: Theologian of Anabaptism, trans. and ed. H. Wayne Pipkin and John H. Yoder (Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1989), 349. 35 Quoted in Timothy George, Theology of the Reformers (Nashville, TN: Broadman & Holman Publishers, 1988), 273. 36 LW 51: 388; WA 51: 191. 37 Bruce Gordon, The Swiss Reformation (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2002), 51–3. 38 Calvin, Commentary on 1 Corinthians 13.12, in Calvin’s New Testament Commentaries, ed. David W. Torrance and Thomas F. Torrance, 12 vols (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1959–70), 9: 281. 39 John W. O’Malley, “Luther the Preacher” in Religious Culture in the Sixteenth Century: Preaching, Rhetoric, Spirituality, and Reform (Aldershot: Variorum, 1993), 8. 40 O’Malley, Religious Culture, 8; WA 4: 620; 9: 416–17, 439–42; 10.1.1: 132–6, 382, 384, 391, 422, 619. 41 O’Malley, Religious Culture, 12. 42 Zwingli, The Latin Works and the Correspondence of Huldriech Zwingli Together with Selections from His German Works, trans. by Henry Preble et al., 3 vols (New York: G.P. Putnam’s sons, 1912), 1: 238. 43 Old, The Reading and Preaching of the Scriptures, 3, 91. 44 Calvin, Commentary on 2 Timothy 2.15, in New Testament Commentaries, 10: 313. 45 Calvin, Sermon on Deuteronomy 6.13–15, quoted in Leith, “Calvin’s Doctrine of the Proclamation,” 218. 46 Rempel, “Mennonites,” 548. 47 Hubmaier, “A Christian Catechism,” 395–6. 48 Rempel, “Mennonites,” 549. 49 Old, The Reading and Preaching of the Scriptures, 144. 50 Old, The Reading and Preaching of the Scriptures, 140, 146. 51 O. C. Edwards, A History of Preaching (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2004), 362–4. 52 White, Protestant Worship, 90. 53 Urbanus Rhegius, Preaching the Reformation: The Homiletical Handbook of Urbanus Rhegius, ed. Scott Hendrix (Milwaukee, WI: Marquette University Press, 2003). 54 Gordon, The Swiss Reformation, 333–4. 55 Calvin, quoted in Thompson, Liturgies of the Western Church, 209. 56 Leith in George, Calvin and the Church, 206. 57 Trent, 26. 58 Trent, 18–19. 59 O’Malley, First Jesuits, 92–3. 60 O’Malley, First Jesuits, 100. 61 Old, The Reading and Preaching of the Scriptures, 218–21. 62 O’Malley, First Jesuits, 96, 102. 63 Nadal, Epistolae P. Hieronymi Nadal Societatis Jesu ab anno 1546 ad 1577, 4 vols (Madrid, 1898–1905), 5: 826, 832. 64 O’Malley, First Jesuits, 104–10. 65 Luther, “To the Christian Nobility of the German Nation,” in Three Treatises, 12–18.

492

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 492

12/19/2000 10:14:29 AM

Notes 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88

89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101

102 103 104 105 106

Thayer, “Learning to Worship,” 51–4. White, Protestant Worship, 42. Luther, Formula Missae, in Thompson, Liturgies of the Western Church, 107. Vajta, Luther on Worship, 174–7. Vajta, Luther on Worship, 14–15. White, Protestant Worship, 44. Luther, Forward to Georg Rhau’s Symphoniae Iocundae, 1538, www.lhc-pa.org/_ files/PTA06%20-%20Music.pdf. White, in Wainwright and Tucker, The Oxford History of Christian Worship, 804–5. Luther, Small Catechism, Book of Concord, 359. WA 17/2: 83. Luther, Babylonian Captivity, 156. Luther, Small Catechism, 362. Zwingli, Action or Use of the Lord’s Supper, in Thompson, Liturgies of the Western Church, 150. Ulrich Zwingli, Selected Writings of Huldrych Zwingli, ed. Edward J. Furcha, 2 vols (Allison Park, PA: Pickwick Publications, 1984), I: 70–1, 73. White, Protestant Worship, 62. George, Theology of the Reformers, 131–2. Zwingli, Action or Use, 149. Zwingli, Action or Use, 150. Thompson, Liturgies of the Western Church, 146. Calvin, Institutes 1.4.3. John Calvin, The Form of Church Prayers, in Thompson, Liturgies of the Western Church, 199–202. Calvin, in The Piety of John Calvin, Ford Lewis Battles (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1978), 99. Calvin, “Epistle to the Reader,” Genevan Psalter (1543) in Charles Garside, The Origins of Calvin’s Theology of Music: 1536–1543 (Philadelphia, PA: The American Philosophical Society, 1979), 32. Calvin, “Baptismal Liturgy,” in Writings on Pastoral Piety, ed. and trans. Elsie Anne McKee (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2001), 154. Calvin, Institutes 4.15.1, 6. Calvin, Form of Church Prayers, 204. Calvin, Form of Church Prayers, 207. Calvin, Form of Church Prayers, 208. Menno Simons, The Complete Writings of Menno Simons, ed. John C. Wenger (Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1956), 100, 102, 514. George, Theology of the Reformers, 287. Simons, Complete Writings, 172. White, Protestant Worship, 88. Rempel, “Mennonites,” 546–9. Rempel, “Mennonites,” 545. Simons, Complete Writings, 300. Simons, “Answer of Some Who Are Called (Ana)baptists: Why They Do Not Attend the Churches,” trans. Shem Peachy and Paul Peachy, Mennonite Quarterly Review 45 (1971): 18. George, Theology of the Reformers, 292. Simons, Complete Writings, 144. George, Theology of the Reformers, 294. Rempel, “Mennonites,” 550. White, Protestant Worship, 86.

493

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 493

12/19/2000 10:14:29 AM

Notes 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118

119 120 121

122 123 124 125

126

Marshall, “Anglican Spirituality,” 131. Preface, First BCP, 4. White, Protestant Worship, 98–9, 103. Quoted in Thompson, Liturgies of the Western Church, 232. White, Protestant Worship, 104. Bryan D. Spinks, “Anglicans and Dissenters,” in Wainwright and Tucker, The Oxford History of Christian Worship, 496. Second BCP, 394. White, Protestant Worship, 98–9. Peter Brooks, Thomas Cranmer’s Doctrine of the Eucharist (New York: The Seabury Press, 1965), 74–5. Spinks, “Anglicans and Dissenters,” 498. Second BCP, 393. Thomas Cranmer, A Defense of the True and Catholic Doctrine of the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of our Saviour Christ, in Archbishop Cranmer on the True and Catholic Doctrine and Use of the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, ed. Charles H. H. Wright (London: Chas. J. Thynne, 1907), 1: 16; 25. Trent, 151. Mitchell, “Reforms, Protestant and Catholic,” 337–8, 334. Josef A. Jungmann, S. J., The Mass: An Historical, Theological and Pastoral Survey, trans. Julian Fernandes, S. J. and ed. Mary Ellen Evans (Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press, 1976), 112. Trent, 147. Trent, 146. White, “Spatial Setting,” 804. Jeffrey Chipps Smith, “The Art of Salvation in Bavaria,” in The Jesuits: Cultures, Sciences, and the Arts, 1540–1773, eds John W. O’Malley et al. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1999), 568–93. James F. White, “The Spatial Setting,” in The Oxford History of Christian Worship, ed. Geoffrey Wainwright and Karen B. Westerfield Tucker (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 807–8.

Chapter 11 1 Marie Dentière, Epistle to Marguerite de Navarre and Preface to a Sermon by John Calvin, trans. and ed. Mary B. McKinley, (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2004), 55–6. 2 McKinley notes that Dentière’s arguments are similar to those of Henricus Cornelius Agrippa (of Nettesheim), whose 1529 Declamation On the Nobility and Preeminence of the Female Sex is one of the most outright defenses of women of the Reformation period. Dentière, Epistle, 25. 3 Roland Bainton’s 3-volume work of the 1970s, The Women of the Reformation (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg, 1971, 1973 and 1977), is still a standard source for biographical information on some of the leading women of the period. 4 Although it is still common for discussions of Reformation theology to omit any mention of women, gender, or sex. 5 This is in contrast to the literary traditions of the querelle des femmes and the many substantial works about the nature and capacities of women produced during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, mainly by humanist scholars. See recently Helen J. Swift, Gender, Writing, and Performance: Men Defending Women in Late Medieval France (1440–1538), Oxford Modern Languages and Literature Monographs (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008).

494

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 494

12/19/2000 10:14:29 AM

Notes 6 The crucial starting point on this is Merry E. Wiesner, Women and Gender in Early Modern Europe, 2nd edn, New Approaches to European History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000). 7 Luther’s own marriage to a former nun, Katharina von Bora, became a primary target of Catholic attacks in the first years of the Reformation. See Thomas A. Fudge, “Incest and Lust in Luther’s Marriage: Theology and Morality in Reformation Polemics,” The Sixteenth Century Journal, 34: 2 (2003): 319–45. 8 Evidence for this negative impact of the Reformation is seen in nuns’ struggles to preserve their convents and way of life. See, for example, Amy Leonard, Nails in the Wall: Catholic Nuns in Reformation Germany (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2005). 9 All translations of scripture passages are taken from The New Oxford Annotated Bible with the Apocrypha, RSV, ed. Herbert G. May and Bruce M. Metzger (New York: Oxford University Press, 1977). 10 John Thompson, “Rules Proved by Exceptions: The Exegesis of Paul and Women in the 16th Century,” in R. Ward Holder, ed., A Companion to Paul in the Reformation, Brill’s Companions to the Christian Tradition, vol. 15 (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 509. 11 Thompson, “Rules,” 510. 12 Luther, Comm. 1 Tim. 2:13 (WA 26: 47; LW 28: 278). Quoted in Thompson, “Rules,” 510. 13 Calvin, Comm. 1 Tim. 2:13 (CO 52: 276–7, CNTC 10: 271–2). Quoted in Thompson, “Rules,” 511. 14 Mickey Leland Mattox, “Defender of the Most Holy Matriarchs”: Martin Luther’s Interpretation of the Women of Genesis in the Enarrationes in Genesin, 1535–45, Studies in Medieval and Reformation Thought (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 99–102, 252–4. 15 Thompson, “Rules,” 518. 16 Thompson, “Rules,” 519. 17 Thompson, “Rules,” 521. 18 Thompson, “Rules,” 520. 19 Mattox, “Defender of the Most Holy Matriarchs,” 105. For discussion of other sixteenth-century considerations of this issue, see Mattox, 102–8. 20 Albrecht Classen and Tanya Amber Settle, “Women in Martin Luther’s Life and Theology,” German Studies Review, 14: 2 (1991): 231–60; Charmarie Jenkins Blaisdell, “Calvin’s Letters to Women: The Courting of Ladies in High Places,” The Sixteenth Century Journal, 13: 3 (1982): 67–84. Katharina Schütz Zell, Church Mother: The Writings of a Protestant Reformer in Sixteenth-Century Germany, trans. and ed. Elsie McKee, The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2006), 16–22. See also Peter Matheson, “Martin Luther and Argula von Grumbach (1492–1553),” Lutheran Quarterly, 22 (2008): 1–15. 21 On Anabaptist views, see Wes Harrison, “The Role of Women in Anabaptist Thought and Practice: The Hutterite Experience of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries,” The Sixteenth Century Journal, 23: 1 (1992): 49–69. 22 Luther, Vom Mi brauch der Messen (WA 8: 497; LW 36: 151–2). For further discussion on this passage and other reformers’ arguments about women’s “emergency ministry,” see Thompson, “Rules,” 530–2. 23 Calvin’s stance on the possibility of female preaching in exceptional circumstances prompted a modern debate regarding his forward-thinkingness about female authority. See Jane Dempsey Douglass, Women, Freedom, and Calvin (Philadelphia, PA: The Westminster Press, 1985) and John Lee Thompson, John Calvin and the Daughters of Sarah: Women in Regular and Exceptional Roles in the Exegesis of Calvin, His Predecessors, and His Contemporaries (Geneva: Droz, 1991).

495

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 495

12/19/2000 10:14:30 AM

Notes 24 For a summary of these events, see Peter Matheson, ed., Argula von Grumbach: A Woman’s Voice in the Reformation (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1995), 14–22. 25 Matheson, Argula, 79. 26 Dentière, Epistle to Marguerite de Navarre, 79. 27 Thompson, “Rules,” 526–7. 28 Key starting points on Protestant notions about the Christian household include: Steven Ozment, When Fathers Ruled: Family Life in Reformation Europe (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1983); Lyndal Roper, The Holy Household: Women and Morals in Reformation Augsburg (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989). On the Reformation’s impact on the institution of marriage, see: Joel Harrington, Reordering Marriage and Society in Reformation Germany (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995); Jeffrey R. Watt, The Making of Modern Marriage: Matrimonial Control and the Rise of Sentiment in Neuchâtel, 1500–1800 (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1992); Thomas Max Safley, Let No Man Put Asunder. The Control of Marriage in the German Southwest: A Comparative Study, 1550–1600 (Kirksville, MO: Sixteenth Century Journal Publishers, 1984). 29 For a more fully developed discussion on the scriptural bases for Reformation teachings on women, marriage, and family, see Karen E. Spierling, “Honor and Subjection in the Lord: Paul and the Family in the Reformation,” in Holder, ed., A Companion to Paul, 465–99. 30 Spierling, “Honor and Subjection,” 473–6. 31 See, for example, Scott Hendrix on Johann Brenz’s use of this passage: Hendrix, “Masculinity and Patriarchy in Reformation Germany,” Journal of the History of Ideas 56: 1 (1995): 190. On both Protestant and Catholic efforts to regulate sexual activity, within marriage and outside of it, see Merry E. Wiesner-Hanks, Christianity and Sexuality in the Early Modern World: Regulating Desire, Reforming Practice, Christianity and Society in the Modern World (London: Routledge, 2000), chapters 2 and 3. 32 Thompson, “Rules,” 512. 33 Carrie Euler, “Heinrich Bullinger, Marriage, and the English Reformation: ‘The Christian State of Martimonye’ in England, 1540–43,” The Sixteenth Century Journal, 34: 2 (2003): 367–93. Herman J. Selderhuis, Marriage and Divorce in the Thought of Martin Bucer, trans. John Vriend and Lyle D. Bierma, Sixteenth Century Essays and Studies (Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 1999). Johann Freder, a less well-known Lutheran pastor, argued for considerable equality within marriage (as well as the parity of men and women in sin): Scott H. Hendrix, “Christianizing Domestic Relations: Women and Marriage in Johann Freder’s Dialogus dem Ehestand zu Ehren,” The Sixteenth Century Journal, 23: 2 (1992): 251–66. 34 At least this was the ideal originally, although within a few decades Protestant reformers began to emphasize the role of church and school over parents in the Christian education of children. The classic study remains Gerald Strauss, Luther’s House of Learning: Indoctrination of the Young in the German Reformation (Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University, 1978). 35 For recent discussion on male obligations and Reformation ideas about masculinity, see Scott H. Hendrix and Susan C. Karant-Nunn, eds, Masculinity in the Reformation Era, Sixteenth Century Essays & Studies, vol. 83 (Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2008). 36 John Calvin, Commentaries on the Epistles of Paul to the Corinthians, vol. 1. CO 49: 478, CNTC 9: 233. Also found at: www.ccel.org/ccel/calvin/calcom39.xviii.i.html. 37 On the Genevan consistory see John Witte, Jr, and Robert M. Kingdon, Sex, Marriage, and Family in John Calvin’s Geneva: Volume 1, Courtship, Engagement, and Marriage (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdman’s, 2005).

496

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 496

12/19/2000 10:14:30 AM

Notes 38 Hutterites, for example, “reasoned that a person could be divorced from an unbelieving spouse if the spouse refused to convert to the faith and tried to prohibit the other from practicing the faith or tried to keep the children from being taught the faith” (Harrison, “The Role of Women in Anabaptist Thought and Practice,” 58). 39 Robert M. Kingdon, Adultery and Divorce in Calvin’s Geneva (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1995), 172–3. 40 Jeffrey R. Watt, “The Impact of the Reformation and Counter-Reformation,” in David I. Kertzer and Marzio Barbagli, eds, Family Life in Early Modern Times 1500– 1789, The History of the European Family, vol. 1 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2001), 130–2. See also: Roderick Phillips, Putting Asunder. A History of Divorce in Western Society (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988); Selderhuis, Marriage and Divorce in the Thought of Martin Bucer. 41 See Kingdon, Adultery and Divorce. 42 Watt, “The Impact of the Reformation and Counter-Reformation,” 132–7. 43 Jeanne de Jussie, The Short Chronicle: A Poor Clare’s Account of the Reformation of Geneva, trans. and ed. Carrie Klaus, The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2006), 159–60. 44 Josef Pfanner, Die “Denkwürdigkeiten” der Carias Pirckheimer, 4 (Landshut: Solanus, 1962), 6. Translated and cited in Paula S. Datsko Barker, “Caritas Pirckheimer: A Female Humanist Confronts the Reformation,” The Sixteenth Century Journal, 26: 2 (1995): 268–9. 45 Barker, “Caritas Pirckheimer,” 271. 46 See, for example: Francisca de los Apóstoles, The Inquisition of Francisca: A SixteenthCentury Visionary on Trial, ed. and trans. Gillian T. W. Ahlgren, The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2005); Gillian T. W. Ahlgren, Teresa of Avila and the Politics of Sanctity (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1996). 47 See Wiesner, Women and Gender, 231–40; Susan E. Dinan, Women and Poor Relief in Seventeenth-Century France: The Early History of the Daughters of Charity, Women and Gender in the Early Modern World (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006). Chapter 12 1 Scott Hendrix, Recultivating the Vineyard: The Reformation Agendas of Christianization (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 2004), esp. xvi–xxiii. 2 Hendrix, Recultivating the Vineyard, 37–67, esp. 37–8. 3 For a short introduction followed by the text of the confession, see Jaroslav Pelikan and Valerie Hotchkiss, eds, Creeds and Confessions of Faith in the Christian Tradition vol. II: Creeds and Confessions of the Reformation Era (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2003), 49–118. Note that in each instance, Pelikan and Hotchkiss also provide the reference to the original edition that served as the basis for their English translation. 4 For more on the context and significance of the Augsburg Confession, see Heiko Oberman, “From Protest to Confession: The confession augustana as a Critical Test of True Ecumenism,” in his The Reformation: Roots and Ramifications, trans. Andrew Gow (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1994), 149–66. 5 Introduction and full text in Pelikan and Hotchkiss, eds, Creeds and Confessions II, 218–48. Critical editions (in the original language) of this and other confessions and catechisms that are included in the Reformed tradition can be found in Eberhard Busch et al., Reformierte Bekenntisschriften (3 vols: 1523–58) (Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 2002–7). 6 Introductions and texts of these confessions can be found in Pelikan and Hotchkiss, eds, Creeds and Confessions II, 207–17 and 272–9.

497

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 497

12/19/2000 10:14:30 AM

Notes 7 Introduction and full text in Pelikan and Hotchkiss, eds, Creeds and Confessions II, 280–91. 8 Introduction and full text in Pelikan and Hotchkiss, eds, Creeds and Confessions II, 119–49. 9 Introduction and full text in Pelikan and Hotchkiss, eds, Creeds and Confessions II, 292–5 and 311–19. 10 See the “Annales” for 1537 in Opera Calvini (Braunschweig: Schwetschke, 1879), vol. XXI, cols 215–16. See also Bernard Cottret, Calvin: A Biography (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2000), 126–30. 11 Introduction and full text in Pelikan and Hotchkiss, eds, Creeds and Confessions II, 387–404. 12 For an in-depth analysis of the confession and its significance, see Ian Hazlett, “The Scots Confession 1560: Context, Complexion and Critique” Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte, 78 (1987): 287–320. 13 Introduction and full text in Pelikan and Hotchkiss, eds, Creeds and Confessions II, 526–40. 14 Introduction and full text in Pelikan and Hotchkiss, eds, Creeds and Confessions II, 458–525. 15 For more on the Second Helvetic Confession’s history and theology, see Joachim Staedtke, ed., Glauben und Bekennen: Vierhundert Jahre Confessio Helvetica Posterior: Beiträge zu ihrer Geschichte und Theologie (Zurich: Zwingli Verlag, 1966). 16 Introduction and full text in Pelikan and Hotchkiss, eds, Creeds and Confessions II, 694–703. 17 For more on the Schleitheim Confession and Anabaptist confessional documents more generally, see Karl Koop, ed., Confessions of Faith in the Anabaptist Tradition 1527–1660 (Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 2006). 18 Introduction and full text in Pelikan and Hotchkiss, eds, Creeds and Confessions II, 372–86. 19 On the uses of the Gallican Confession in France, see Bernard Roussel, “Le texte et les usages de la Confession de foi des Eglises réformées de France d’après les Actes des Synodes Nationaux (1559–1659),” in Marie-Madeleine Fragonard and Michel Perronet, eds, Catéchismes et Confessions de foi: Actes du VIIIe colloque Jean Boisset (Montpellier: Université Paul Valéry, 1995), 31–60. 20 Introduction and full text in Pelikan and Hotchkiss, eds, Creeds and Confessions II, 405–26. 21 For more on the textual history of the Belgic Confession, see Nicolaas Gootjes, The Belgic Confession: Its History and Sources (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2007). 22 There is an extensive body of scholarship, mostly in German, on “confessionalization,” a term coined to describe the process by which rival churches built their understanding of their confessional identity particularly with reference to political authorities. One of the leading proponents of the confessionalization approach is Heinz Schilling. For an introduction to this topic, see his “Calvinism and Urban Republicanism: the Emden Experience,” in his Civic Calvinism in Northwestern Germany and the Netherlands: Sixteenth to Nineteenth Centuries (Kirksville, MO: Sixteenth Century Essays and Studies, 1991), 11–40. 23 See the thorough discussion of late-medieval Catholic catechesis in Robert James Bast, Honor Your Fathers: Catechisms and the Emergence of a Patriarchal Ideology in Germany 1400–1600 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 1–45. 24 Introduction and full text of the Small Catechism in Pelikan and Hotchkiss, eds, Creeds and Confessions II, 29–48.

498

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 498

12/19/2000 10:14:30 AM

Notes 25 For an in-depth analysis of this work and its complete text in English, see I. John Hesselink, Calvin’s First Catechism: A Commentary (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1997). 26 Introduction and full text in Pelikan and Hotchkiss, eds, Creeds and Confessions II, 311, 320–63. This translation omits the prayers that were included in later editions of the Genevan catechism. 27 Introduction and full text in Pelikan and Hotchkiss (eds), Creeds and Confessions II, 427–57. 28 For more on the content and significance of the Heidelberg Catechism see Lyle D. Bierma, ed., An Introduction to the Heidelberg Catechism: Sources, History, and Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2005). 29 For a helpful overview of the catechizing process in theory and in practice, see Ian Green, “Teaching the Reformation: The Clergy as Preachers, Catechists, Authors and Teachers,” in C. Scott Dixon and Luise Schorn-Schütte, eds, The Protestant Clergy of Early Modern Europe (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), 156–75, esp. 163–7. 30 For more on printed catechisms, see Jean-François Gilmont, ed., The Reformation and the Book, trans. Karin Maag (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998), esp. 72–4. 31 See Ian Green, “Catechizing in Theory and Practice: In School and at Home,” in his The Christian’s ABC: Catechisms and Catechizing in England c. 1530-1740 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 170–229. 32 See Robert Kingdon, “Catechesis in Calvin’s Geneva,” in John Van Engen, ed., Educating People of Faith: Exploring the History of Jewish and Christian Communities (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 294–313. 33 Glenn Sunshine, Reforming French Protestantism: The Development of Huguenot Ecclesiastical Institutions, 1557–1572 (Kirksville, MO: Sixteenth Century Essays & Studies, 2003), 101–17. 34 Green, “Catechizing in Theory and Practice: In Church,” in The Christian’s ABC, 93–169. 35 “Managing a Country Parish: A Country Pastor’s Advice to His Successor,” in Alastair Duke, Gillian Lewis, and Andrew Pettegree, eds, Calvinism in Europe: 1540– 1610 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1992), 49–56. 36 “Managing a Country Parish”, 51–6. 37 See Robert Kingdon, “Catechesis in Calvin’s Geneva,” in John Van Engen, ed., Educating People of Faith: Exploring the History of Jewish and Christian Communities (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 294–313. 38 The text of these questions and answers (in two distinct forms) appears in Opera Calvini VI, cols 147–60. 39 See for instance the survey of catechetical instruction and popular disinterest in C. Scott Dixon, The Reformation and Rural Society: The Parishes of Brandenburg-AnsbachKulmbach, 1528-1603 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 157–9. In English-speaking scholarship, debate on the impact of religious instruction primarily through the catechism arose in reaction to Gerald Strauss’s thesis of the failure of such instruction in his Luther’s House of Learning: Indoctrination of the Young in the German Reformation (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978). Chapter 13 1 Inst. 4.1.90. J. Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. J. T. McNeill; trans. F. L. Battles; 2 vols (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1960), II, 1023; J. Calvin and J. Sadoleto, A Reformation Debate, ed. J. C. Olin (New York: Harper and Row, 1966), 63.

499

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 499

12/19/2000 10:14:31 AM

Notes 2 G. Sunshine, “Discipline as the Third Mark of the Church: Three Views,” Calvin Theological Journal 33 (1998): 469–80; Scots Confession, article 18; Belgic Confession, article 29; P. Schaff, ed., The Creeds of Christendom, 3 vols; reprint of 1931 New York edition (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 6th edn, 1998), III, 419–20 and 461–2. 3 G. Oestreich, Neostoicism and the Early Modern State (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982). 4 W. Reinhard, “Reformation, Counter-Reformation and the Early Modern State: A Reassessment,” Catholic Historical Review, 75 (1989): 383–404. H. Schilling, “Confessionalization in the Empire: Religious and Societal Change in Germany between 1555 and 1620,” in H. Schilling, Religion, Political Culture and the Emergence of Early Modern Society: Essays in German and Dutch History (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 205–45. 5 Calvin, Inst. 4.12.1. Calvin, Institutes, ed. McNeill, II, 1230–1. 6 Calvin, Inst. 4.12.5. Calvin, Institutes, ed. McNeill, II, 1232–4. 7 Calvin, Inst. 3.4.12. Calvin, Institutes, ed. McNeill, I, 636. 8 Calvin, Inst. 2.7.12. Institutes, ed. McNeill, I, 360. 9 Calvin, Inst. 4.12.1. Institutes, ed. McNeill, II, 1230. 10 J. Calvin, Harmonium Evangelica, in Ioannis Calvini Opera quae supersunt omnia, ed. G. Baum, E. Cunitz and E. Reuss; 59 vols (Brunswick: C.A. Schwetschke, 1863–1900), XLV, 514–15. 11 R. M. Kingdon, “La discipline ecclésiastique vue de Zurich et Genève au temps de la Réformation: l’usage de Matthieu 18, 15–17 par les réformateurs,” Revue de théologie et de philosophie 133 (2001) : 343–55. 12 E. Sehling, Die Evangelischen Kirchenordnungen des XVI. Jahrhunderts, 15 vols (Leipzig: O. R. Reisland, 1902–77), II, 240. I am grateful to R. Christman of Luther College for this reference. 13 M. Noll, ed., Confessions and Catechisms of the Reformation (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1991), 61. 14 R. Christman, “The Pulpit and the Pew: Shaping Popular Piety in the Late Reformation,” in R. Kolb, ed., Lutheran Ecclesiastical Culture, 1550–1675 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 286–90. Chapter 14 1 Parts of this essay are adapted from my contribution to Bernard McGinn et al., eds, The Continuum History of Apocalypticism (New York: Continuum, 2003), chapter 13, “Images of Hope and Despair: Western Apocalypticism c. 1500–1800.” 2 William J. Bouwsma, “Anxiety and the Formation of Early Modern Culture,” in After the Reformation: Essays in honor of J. H. Hexter, ed. Barbara C. Malament (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylania Press, 1980), 218. 3 See R. Emmet McLaughlin, “Apocalypticism and Thomas Müntzer,” Archive for Reformation History 95 (2004): 98–131. 4 I borrow the phrase “on the brink of eternity” from the classic work of Heiko A. Oberman, Luther: Man between God and the Devil (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1989), passim. 5 John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. J. T. McNeil (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster John Knox Press, 1960), vol. 2: 905–6. 6 Charles Webster, The Great Instauration: Science, Medicine, and Reform 1626–1660 (New York: Holmes and Meier, 1975), 8. 7 The writer was Paul Felgenhauer. See my Prophecy and Gnosis: Apocalypticism in the Wake of the Lutheran Reformation (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1988), 259.

500

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 500

12/19/2000 10:14:31 AM

Notes Chapter 15 1 His resistance against the Nazi era German Christians was theologically driven. See for example the Barmen Declaration and his tract “Theologische Existenz heute!” from 1933. 2 The charge of “quietism” can be traced back to the Reformation itself, but was given its classical definition by Ernst Troelstch: “Lutheran Christian individualism has retired behind the line of battle of all external events and outward activity, into a purely personal spirituality. This spirituality is based on nothing save the ‘Word,’ which is guaranteed by the Church: it therefore regards the Church simply as the Herald of the Word, endowed with a purely spiritual miraculous converting power; it has no conception of the Church as an ethical organization of Christendom as a whole. As soon as the Christian believer turns from this spirituality to take his part in real life, he can only express his inner liberty through submission to the existing order.” Ernst Troeltsch, The Social Teaching of the Christian Churches, trans. Oliver Wyon, 2 vols (1931, reprint edn, New York: Harper & Row, 1960), 2: 540. The American journalist William Shirer further developed this position in The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich: A History of Nazi Germany (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1960), 91. 3 John of Saxony (1468–1532) was the younger brother of Frederick the Wise. He succeeded his brother as Duke of Saxony in 1525. He is often called “John the Steadfast.” 4 As duke and elector, Frederick was nominally in charge of all of Electoral Saxony. However, in order to manage the duchy, he and his brother divided it into separate spheres of authority. 5 Luther, On Secular Authority, LW 45: 88, 90; WA 11: 249, 251. 6 See, Rainer Anselm, s.v. “Zweireichelehre I,” in Theologische Realenzyklopädie 36, (Berlin / New York, 2004,): 776-784, here p. 781. 7 There were many church leaders who had responsibility for not only churches, parishes, and dioceses but were also secular rulers who ruled over towns, cities, and even small regions. 8 Luther, To the Christian Nobility, LW 44: 129; WA 6: 408. 9 Müntzer was also maneuvering himself into the position of leading reformer for Saxony over and against Luther. Müntzer’s animosity to and competition with Luther ought to be considered when studying the former’s actions. 10 Two of the more famous medieval uprisings are the uprising led by John Ball in the 1380s in England and a peasant uprising around Nicklashausen in the 1470s. 11 The Twelve Articles were issued by the “Christian Union of Upper Swabia” in 1525. See The Twelve Articles of Upper Swabia, in Günther Franz, ed., Quellen zur Geschichte des Bauernkrieges (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1963), 174–9; reprinted in Scott and Scribner, German Peasants’ War, 252–7. 12 I concentrate on the peaceful wing of the Anabaptist movement; one could also understand violent actions as the Munster Kingdom as an attempt to establish a new society. Chapter 16 1 Harmening, Superstitio, 46–8. S. Clark, Thinking With Demons, 472–88. P. G. MaxwellStuart, “Rational Superstition: The Writings of Protestant Demonologists,” in Parish and Naphy, Religion and Superstition, 170–87. 2 Quotations from original sources are taken from P. G. Maxwell-Stuart (ed.), The Occult in Early Modern Europe (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1999). On Lucrecia de León, see Richard Kagan, Lucrecia’s Dreams: Politics and Prophecy in Sixteenth-Century

501

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 501

12/19/2000 10:14:31 AM

Notes

3 4

5 6

7 8

Spain (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1995); Roger Osborne, The Dreamer of the Cale de San Salvador: Visions of Sedition and Sacrilege in Sixteenth-Century Spain (London: Jonathan Cape, 2001). See also, more generally, Ottavia Niccoli, Prophecy and People in Renaissance Italy, English translation (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1990). On Nostradamus, see Ian Wilson, Nostradamus, the Evidence (London: Orion Books Ltd., 2002). On Madre Zuana, see Marion Leathers Kuntz, Guillaume Postel, Prophet of the Restoration of All Things: His Life and Thought (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1981), 73–82, 120–1. On Gallo, see Marion Leathers Kuntz, The Anointment of Dionisio: Prophecy and Politics in Renaissance Italy (University Park: Penn State University Press, 2001). Paracelsus, Archidoxis Magicae Libri VII in K. Sudhoff (ed.), Sämtliche Werke, vol. 14 (Munich-Berlin, 1933), 437–98, quotation: 442–3. On Dee, see further Bernard Woolley, The Queen’s Conjuror: The Science and Magic of Dr Dee (London: HarperCollins, 2001); Gerald Suster, John Dee, Western Esoteric Masters series (Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books, 2003); Deborah Harkness, John Dee’s Conversations with Angels: Alchemy and the End of Nature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999); György Szónyi, John Dee’s Occultism: Magical Exaltation through Powerful Signs (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2004). Platz is quoted in Clark, Thinking with Demons, 467. Briggs, Witches and Neighbours, 265–71. Behringer, Witches and Witch-Hunts, 149–68. Note also page 49 where he distinguishes, as many do not, between the various terms used to describe small, medium, and large witch prosecutions. Behringer, Witchcraft Persecutions in Bavaria, 105–7; Decker, Witchcraft and the Papacy, 209–16; William Monter, A Bewitched Duchy: Lorraine and its Dukes (Geneva: Librairie Droz, 2007), 49. Behringer, Witchcraft Persecutions in Bavaria, 109–14. Bever, The Realities of Witchcraft, 129–50, 20–39. Bever also makes the important point that “it is understandable, but at the same time lamentable, that in the past 50 years of modern social–scientific investigations of early modern witchcraft and magic, not one has taken into account the body of serious scientific work on paranormal phenomena that has been done in the past century, along with the vigorous sceptical critique of it,” 439.

Chapter 17 1 Hans-Jürgen Goertz, ed., Profiles of Radical Reformers: Biographical Sketches from Thomas Müntzer to Paracelsus (English edn), ed. Walter Klaassen (Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1982), 19–20; Adolph Laube, “Radicalism as a Research Problem in the History of the Early Reformation,” in Hans J. Hillerbrand, ed., Radical Tendencies in the Reformation: Divergent Perspectives (Kirksville, MO: Sixteenth Century Journal Publishers, 1988), 9–23, 14; James M. Stayer, “The Radical Reformation,” in Thomas A. Brady, Jr, Heiko A. Oberman, and James D. Tracy, eds, Handbook of European History, 1400–1600: Late Middle Ages, Renaissance and Reformation, vol. 2: Visions, Programs and Outcomes (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1996), 249–76, 249. 2 Cf. Roland H. Bainton, “The Left Wing of the Reformation.” The Journal of Religion, 21 (1941): 124–34; George H. Williams, The Radical Reformation (3rd edn; Kirksville, MO: Sixteenth Century Journal Publishers, 1992); Heinold Fast, ed., Der linke Flügel der Reformation: Glaubenszeugnisse der Täufer, Spiritualisten, Schwärmer und Antitrinitarier (Bremen: Carl Schünemann Verlag, 1962), x–xii; Goertz, Profiles of Radical Reformers, 13–14; Michael Baylor, ed. and trans., The Radical Reformation (Cambridge Texts in the History of Political Thought; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), xii–xvii; Stayer, “Radical Reformation,” 249, 275–6.

502

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 502

12/19/2000 10:14:31 AM

Notes 3 Williams, Radical Reformation, xxxvi; Laube, “Radicalism as a Research Problem,” 12–14; Stayer, “Radical Reformation,” 250, 266–7, 273–4. 4 Laube, “Radicalism as a Research Problem,” 14; Stayer, “Radical Reformation,” 250–3. 5 Peter Blickle, The Communal Reformation. The Quest for Salvation in Sixteenth-Century Germany, trans. Thomas Dunlap (Atlantic Heights, NJ and London: Humanities Press, 1992), 43–9. 6 Ulrich Bubenheimer, Thomas Müntzer: Herkunft und Bildung (Studies in Medieval and Reformation Thought, 46; Leiden: Brill, 1989), esp. 145–93, 234–5 and William M. McNiel, “Andreas von Karlstadt and Thomas Müntzer: Relatives in Theology and Reformation” (unpublished Ph.D. Dissertation: Queen’s University, 1999). 7 See, for example, Ronald J. Sider, Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt. The Development of his Thought 1517–1525 (Studies in Medieval and Reformation Thought, 11; Leiden: Brill, 1974), 202–303; Reinhard Schwarz, “Thomas Müntzer und die Mystik,” in Siegfried Bräuer and Helmar Junghans, eds, Der Theologe Thomas Müntzer. Untersuchungen zu seiner Entwicklung und Lehre (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1989), 283–301; Hans-Jürgen Goertz, Thomas Müntzer: Apocalyptic Mystic and Revolutionary, ed. Peter Matheson and trans. Jocelyn Jaquiery (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1993), 195–8; Abraham Friesen, Thomas Muentzer, a Destroyer of the Godless: The Making of a Sixteenth-Century Religious Revolutionary (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1990), 10–33. 8 R. Emmet McLaughlin, “Reformation Spiritualism: Typology, Sources, and Significance,” in Hans-Jürgen Goertz and James M. Stayer, eds, Radikalität und Dissent im 16. Jahrhundert/Radicalism and Dissent in the Sixteenth Century (Zeitshcrift für historische Forschung, Beiheft 27; Berlin: Duncker and Humblot, 2002), 123–40, esp. 135–9. 9 See Sider, Karlstadt: Development of his Thought, 112–18, 259–77, 299–300; Bubenheimer, Müntzer: Herkunft und Bildung, 194–229, 233–4; McNiel, “Karlstadt and Müntzer,” 11–75; idem, “Andreas von Karlstadt as a Humanist Theologian,” in Werner O. Packull and Geoffrey L. Dipple, eds, Radical Reformation Studies: Essays Presented to James M. Stayer (St Andrews Studies in Reformation History; Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999), 106–19. 10 Sider, Karlstadt: Development of his Thought, 212–303; Calvin Augustine Pater, Karlstadt as the Father of the Baptist Movements: The Emergence of Lay Protestantism (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984), 50–68; Siegfried Bräuer, “Thomas Müntzers Kirchenverständnis vor seiner Allstedter Zeit,” in Bräuer and Junghans, Der Theologe Thomas Müntzer, 100–120; Friesen, Muentzer, Destroyer of the Godless, 146–67. 11 Sider, Karlstadt: Development of his Thought, 291–9. 12 Cf. Ernst Koch, “Das Sakramentsverständnis Thomas Müntzers,” in Bräuer and Junghans, Der Theologe Thomas Müntzer, 129–55; McNiel, “Karlstadt and Müntzer,” 135–6. 13 Hans-Jürgen Goertz, “The Reformation of the Commoners,” in John D. Roth and James M. Stayer, eds, A Companion to Anabaptism and Spiritualism, 1521–1700 (Brill’s Companions to the Christian Tradition, 6; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 5–34. 14 Peter Matheson, ed. and trans., The Collected Works of Thomas Müntzer (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1988), 43–6, 362–71; Günther Franz, ed., Thomas Müntzer: Schriften und Briefe (Quellen und Forschungen zur Reformationsgeschichte, 33; Gütersloh: Gerd Mohn, 1968), 379–82, 495–505. 15 Stayer, “Radical Reformation,” 253. 16 Matheson, Collected Works of Thomas Müntzer, 370; Franz, Müntzer: Schriften und Briefe, 503–4.

503

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 503

12/19/2000 10:14:32 AM

Notes 17 Franklin H. Littell, The Origins of Sectarian Protestantism: A Study of the Anabaptist View of the Church (New York: Macmillan, 1964), 47–8. 18 Geoffrey Dipple, “Just as in the time of the Apostles”: Uses of History in the Radical Reformation (Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 2005), 63–96. 19 Tom Scott, Thomas Müntzer: Theology and Revolution in the German Reformation (New York: St Martin’s Press, 1989), 47–123; Günter Vogler, Thomas Müntzer (Berlin: Dietz Verlag, 1989), 125–99; Abraham Friesen, Muentzer, Destroyer of the Godless, 168–272. 20 Cf. Friesen, Muentzer, Destroyer of the Godless, esp. 53–72 and Goertz, Müntzer: Apocalyptic Mystic and Revolutionary, 193–207. 21 R. Emmmet McLaughlin, “Apocalypticism and Thomas Müntzer,” Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte, 95 (2004): 98–131. 22 Matheson, Collected Works of Müntzer, 226–52; Franz, Müntzer: Schriften und Briefe, 241–63; Eike Wolgast, “Die Obrigkeits- und Widerstandslehre Thomas Müntzers,” in Bräuer and Junghans, Der Theologe Thomas Müntzer, 195–213. 23 Pater, Karlstadt as Father of the Baptist Movements, 83–91. 24 McNiel, “Karlstadt and Müntzer,” 253; Roy L. Vice, “Ehrenfried Kumpf, Karlstadt’s Patron and Peasants’ War Rebel,” Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte, 86 (1995): 153–74; idem, “Valentin Ickelshammer’s Odyssey from Rebellion to Quietism,” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 69 (1995): 75–92. 25 Harold S. Bender, “The Anabaptist Vision,” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 18 (1944): 67–88. For examples of minor revisions to Bender’s thesis, see Walter Klaassen, Anabaptism: Neither Catholic nor Protestant (Waterloo, ON: Conrad Press, 1973) and John S. Oyer, Lutheran Reformers against Anabaptists: Luther, Melanchthon and Menius and the Anabaptists of Central Germany (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1964). 26 James M. Stayer, Werner O. Pakull, and Klaus Deppermann, “From Monogenesis to Polygenesis: The Historical Discussion of Anabaptist Beginnings,” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 49 (1975): 83–121. Two works, which preceded the publication of this article, are also usually considered standards of the revisionists: James M. Stayer, Anabaptists and the Sword (Lawrence, KS: Coronado Press, 1972) and ClausPeter Clasen, Anabaptism; A Social History: Switzerland, Austria, Moravia, and South and Central Germany (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1972). 27 C. Arnold Snyder, Anabaptist History and Theology (Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 1995), esp. 83–98; idem, “Beyond Polygenesis: Recovering the Unity and Diversity of Anabaptist Theology,” in H. Wayne Pipkin, ed., Essays in Anabaptist Theology (Elkhart, IN: Institute of Mennonite Studies, 1994), 1–33; idem, “Swiss Anabaptism: The Beginnings, 1523–1525,” in Roth and Stayer, eds, A Companion to Anabaptism and Spiritualism, 45–81; idem, “The Birth and Evolution of Swiss Anabaptism, 1520– 1530,” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 80 (2006): 501–645. 28 A classic example of the former approach is Abraham Friesen, Erasmus, the Anabaptists, and the Great Commission (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans, 1998). Prominent among the latter are J. Denny Weaver, “Reading SixteenthCentury Anabaptism Theologically: Implications for Modern Mennonites as a Peace Church,” Conrad Grebel Review, (Winter 1998), 37–51; Andrea Strübind, Eifriger als Zwingli: Die frühe Täuferbewegung in der Schweiz (Berlin: Duncker and Humblot, 2003) and Gerald Biesecker-Mast, Separation and the Sword in Anabaptist Persuasion: Radical Confessional Rhetoric from Schleitheim to Dordrecht (The C. Henry Smith Series, 6; Telford, PA: Cascadia Publishing, 2006). 29 James M. Stayer, “Saxon Radicalism and Swiss Anabaptism: The Return of the Repressed,” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 67 (1993): 5–30, esp. 19–24. 30 Leland Harder, ed., The Sources of Swiss Anabaptism: The Grebel Letters and Related Documents (Classics of the Radical Reformation, 4; Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1985), 335, 427–8; John H. Yoder, ed. and trans., The Legacy of Michael Sattler (Classics of the Radical Reformation, 1; Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1973), 36; Heinold Fast,

504

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 504

12/19/2000 10:14:32 AM

Notes

31

32

33

34 35 36 37 38

39 40 41 42 43 44

45 46 47

ed., Quellen zur Geschichte der Täufer in der Schweiz, vol. 2: Ostschweiz (Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 1973), 28–9, 265–73. H. Wayne Pipkin and John H. Yoder, eds and trans, Balthasar Hubmaier, Theologian of Anabaptism (Classics of the Radical Reformation, 5; Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1989), 95–149; Gunnar Westin and Torsten Bergsten, eds, Balthasar Hubmaier, Schriften (Quellen und Forschungen zur Reformationsgeschichte, 29; Quellen zur Geschichte der Täufer, 9; Gütersloh: Gerd Mohn, 1962), 116–63; Rollin Stely Armour, Anabaptist Baptism: A Representative Study (Studies in Anabaptist and Mennonite History, 11; Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1966), 19–57. Daniel Liechty, ed. and trans., Early Anabaptist Spirituality: Selected Writings (Classics of Western Spirituality; New York: Paulist Press, 1994), 64–81; Gottfried Seebaß, “Das Zeichen der Erwählten, zum Verständnis der Taufe bei Hans Hut,” in HansJürgen Goertz, ed., Umstrittenes Täufertum 1525–1975. Neue Forschungen (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1975), 138–64; Armour, Anabaptist Baptism, 76–112; Klaus Deppermann, Melchior Hoffman: Social Unrest and Apocalyptic Visions in the Age of Reformation, ed. Benjamin Drewery and trans. Malcolm Wren (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1987), 229–40. William Klassen and Walter Klaassen, eds and trans, The Writings of Pilgram Marpeck (Classics of the Radical Reformation, 2; Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1978), 159–302; idem, Marpeck. A Life of Dissent and Conformity (Studies in Anabaptist and Mennonite History, 44; Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 2008); Armour, Anabaptist Baptism, 113–34; Neal Blough, Christ in our Midst: Incarnation, Church and Discipleship in the Theology of Pilgrim Marpeck (Anabaptist and Mennonite Studies, 8; Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 2007). Thomas N. Finger, A Contemporary Anabaptist Theology: Biblical, Historical, and Constructive (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2007), 167–8. For example, Bender, “Anabaptist Vision.” Yoder, Legacy of Michael Sattler, 37–8; Fast, Quellen, 29–30. The strongest case most recently for this line of interpretation is made by Andrea Strübind, Eifriger als Zwingli. Martin Haas, “The Path of the Anabaptists into Separation: The Interdependence of Theology and Social Behaviour,” in James M. Stayer and Werner O. Packull (eds and trans) The Anabaptists and Thomas Müntzer (Dubuque, IA: Kendall Hunt Publishing Company, 1980), 72–84; James M. Stayer, “Die Anfänge des schweizerischen Täufertums im reformierten Kogregationalismus,” in Goertz, ed., Umstrittenes Täufertum, 19–49. For example, Snyder, “Birth and Evolution of Swiss Anabaptism.” Hans-Jürgen Goertz, The Anabaptists (Christianity and Society in the Modern World; trans. Trevor Johnson; London and New York: Routledge, 1996), 92–7. Snyder, Anabaptist History and Theology, 90–1, 95. Snyder, “Swiss Anabaptism: The Beginnings,” 60–1, 67, 79; idem, “Birth and Evolution of Swiss Anabaptism,” 543–4. Snyder, Anabaptist History and Theology, 327–30; Finger, A Contemporary Anabaptist Theology, 210–14. William Echard Keeney, The Development of Dutch Anabaptist Thought and Practice from 1539–1564 (Nieuwkoop: B. De Graaf, 1968), 162–6; Snyder, Anabaptist History and Theology, 339–50; Finger, A Contemporary Anabaptist Theology, 215–19. Snyder, Anabaptist History and Theology, 330–6. Yoder, Legacy of Michael Sattler, 37; Fast, Quellen, 29. John D. Rempel, The Lord’s Supper in Anabaptism: A Study in the Christology of Balthasar Hubmaier, Pilgram Marpeck, and Dirk Philips (Studies in Anabaptist and Mennonite History, no. 33; Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1993), 419.

505

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 505

12/19/2000 10:14:32 AM

Notes 48 Deppermann, Melchior Hoffman, 231; Rempel, Lord’s Supper in Anabaptism, 93–195; Finger, A Contemporary Anabaptist Theology, 195–6. 49 Yoder, Legacy of Michael Sattler, 45; James M. Stayer, The German Peasants’ War and Anabaptist Community of Goods (McGill-Queen’s Studies in the History of Religion, 6; Montreal: McGill-Queen), 96–105; Snyder, “Birth and Evolution of Swiss Anabaptism,” 545, 643. 50 Stayer, Peasants’ War and Anabaptist Community of Goods, 107–59; Werner O. Packull, Hutterite Beginnings. Communitarian Experiments during the Reformation (Baltimore, MD and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995), 33–53, 161–302; Leonard Gross, The Golden Years of the Hutterites: The Witness and Thought of the Communal Moravian Anabaptists During the Walpot Era, 1565–1578 (Studies in Anabaptist and Mennonite History, 23; Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1980), 164–93. 51 Littell, Origins of Sectarian Protestantism, 46–108. 52 Dipple, “Just as in the time of the apostles,” 105–69, 218–42. 53 Yoder, Legacy of Michael Sattler, 39–41; Fast, Quellen, 31–3; Bender, “Anabaptist Vision.” 54 Stayer, Anabaptists and the Sword. Stayer’s conclusions remain disputed in some quarters, especially among scholars from within the free church tradition. For example, see the recent challenge posed by Gerald Biesecker-Mast in Separation and the Sword. 55 C. Arnold Snyder, “The ‘Perfection of Christ’ Reconsidered: The Later Swiss Brethren and the Sword,” in Packull and Dipple, eds, Radical Reformation Studies, 53–69; idem, “Swiss Anabaptism: The Beginnings,” 45-81; idem, “Birth and Evolution of Swiss Anabaptism,” 524–34, 563–81. 56 Walter Klaassen, “Spiritualization in the Reformation,” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 37 (1963): 67–77; Snyder, Anabaptist History and Theology, 159–72, 205–6, 383. 57 Goertz, Anabaptists, 36–67, 94; Snyder, Anabaptist History and Theology, 382–4. 58 Harder, Sources of Swiss Anabaptism, 410–11. 59 Finger, A Contemporary Anabaptist Theology, 257–70, 515–38; Astrid von Schlachta, “‘Searching through the Nations.’ Tasks and Problems of Sixteenth Century Hutterian Missions,” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 74 (2000): 27–49. 60 Emmet McLaughlin, “Spiritualism: Schwenkfeld and Franck and Their Early Modern Resonances,” in Roth and Stayer, eds, Companion to Anabaptism and Spiritualism, 119–58, esp. 119–24. 61 Geoffrey Dipple, “The Spiritualist Anabaptists,” in Roth and Stayer, eds, Companion to Anabaptism and Spiritualism, 257–94. 62 Paul L. Maier, Caspar Schwenkfeld on the Person of Christ: A Study of Schwenkfeldian Theology at its Core (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1959), 34ff., 54–8; R. Emmet McLaughlin, Caspar Schwenkfeld, Reluctant Radical: His Life to 1540 (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1986), 200–24; idem, “Spiritualism: Schwenkfeld and Franck,” 125–32; Werner O. Packull, Mysticism and the South German-Austrian Anabaptist Movement, 1525–1531 (Studies in Anabaptist and Mennonite History, 19; Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1977), 48–50. 63 Geoffrey Dipple, “Sebastian Franck in Strasbourg,” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 73 (1999): 783–802; idem “Spiritualist Anabaptists,” 271–9, 281–2; McLaughlin, Schwenkfeld, Reluctant Reformer, 138–40. 64 Dipple, “Spiritualist Anabaptists,” 259–71. 65 McLaughlin, “Spiritualism: Schwenkfeld and Franck,” 127–9, 135–6; Dipple, “Spiritualist Anabaptists,” 274–5, 285–6. 66 Dipple, “Just as in the time of the apostles,” 179–99, 203–42. 67 Packull, Mysticism and the South German/Austrian Anabaptist Movement, 54–6. 68 Dipple, “Spiritualist Anabaptists,” 275.

506

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 506

12/19/2000 10:14:32 AM

Notes 69 For example, Paul Brand, “Print and Knowledge of God: The Development of a Spiritualist Epistemology in the Early German Reformation” (unpublished Ph.D. Dissertation, University of York, 2007). 70 McLaughlin, “Spiritualism: Schwenkfeld and Franck,” 130. 71 Gary K. Waite, David Joris and Dutch Anabaptism 1524–1543 (Waterloo, ON: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1990), 182–4. 72 Brand, “Print and the Knowledge of God,” 257–81. Chapter 18 1 For the discussion that follows, see Enchiridion militis Christiani: An English Version, ed. Anne M. O’Donnell (New York, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981), especially chapter xiii. 2 For the discussion that follows, see A Reformation Debate: Karlstadt, Emser, and Eck on Sacred Images, trans. Brian D. Mangrum and Giuseppi Scavizzi (Toronto: Center for Reformation and Renaissance Studies, 1998), 21–43. 3 For what follows, see “Eight Sermons at Wittenberg, 1522,” trans. John W. Doberstein, in Luther’s Works: American Edition, vol. 51 (Philadelphia, PA: Muhlenberg Press, 1959), 79–86. 4 See A Reformation Debate, 45–95. 5 See A Reformation Debate, 97–125. 6 The Essential Carlstadt: Fifteen Tracts, trans. Edward J. Furcha (Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1995), 247–68. 7 Translated by Bernhard Erling, in Luther’s Works: American Edition, vol. 40 (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1958), 79–105. 8 In The Book of Concord: The Confessions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church, ed. Robert Kolb, Timothy Wengert, and James Schaffer (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2000). 9 Commentary on Romans, trans. Fred Kramer (St Louis, MO: Concordia Publishing House, 1992). 10 Loci Communes, 1543, trans. J. A. O. Preus (St Louis, MO: Concordia Publishing House, 1992). 11 Charles Garside, “Ludwig Haetzer’s Pamphlet against Images: A Critical Study,” Mennonite Quarterly Review, 34/1 (1960): 20–36. 12 Commentary on True and False Religion, trans. Samuel Jackson and Clarence Heller (Durham, NC: Labyrinth Press, 1981). See also Charles Garside, Zwingli and the Arts (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1966). 13 The Decades of Henry Bullinger, Minister of the Church of Zurich, ed. Rev. Thomas Harding (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1849), 214–34. 14 For what follows, see Randall C. Zachman, Image and Word in the Theology of John Calvin (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2007), 1–9, 49–55, 71–3, 223–32, 373–7. 15 See Randall C. Zachman, John Calvin as Teacher, Pastor, and Theologian: The Shape of His Writings and Thought (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2006), 55–76. 16 The Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, trans. Rev. H. J. Schroeder, O. P. (Rockford, IL: Tan Books and Publishers, 1978), 215–17. Chapter 19 1 Brad S. Gregory, Salvation at Stake: Christian martyrdom in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press, 1999) [Indicated as SAS]. 2 Brad S. Gregory, “Martyrs and Saints,” in R. Po-chia Hsia, ed., A Companion to the Reformation World (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2006), [Indicated as M&S] 456.

507

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 507

12/19/2000 10:14:33 AM

Notes 3 Penny Roberts, “Martyrologies and Martyrs in the French Reformation: Heretics to Subversives in Troyes,” in Martyrs and Martyrologies: Papers Read at the 1992 Summer Meeting and the 1993 Winter Meeting of the Ecclesiastical History Society, ed. Diana Wood (Oxford, UK and Cambridge, MA: Blackwell Publishers, 1993) [Indicated as M&M ], 224. Whether to include the riot victims among martyrs is a matter of debate. 4 SAS, 108. 5 SAS, 135. 6 On the theatricity of public execution, see Jane E. A. Dawson, “The Scottish Reformation and the Theatre of Martyrdom,” in M&M, 261–7. Dramatic rituals, such as verbal humiliation, procession, degradation and mutilation of the body, effigy burning, burning at the stake, and drowning, provided a kind of popular entertainment. In these rituals martyrs would engage in the “battle of wits” with their accusers, preach for their faith in “gestures and words,” and often “stole the show” (262–3). 7 Tertullian, Apologetics, 50, in ANF 3: 55. 8 See, Susan Wabuda, “Henry Bull, Miles Coverdale, and the Making of Foxe’s Book of Martyrs,” in M&M, 249. 9 Miri Rubin, “Choosing Death? Experiences of Martyrdom in Late Medieval Europe,” in M&M, 171. 10 On the laicization of monastic spirituality in devotion moderna, see Scott H. Hendrix, Recultivating the Vineyard: the Reformation Agendas of Christianization (Louisville, KY: Westminister John Knox Press, 2004). 11 On the changing views of the poor, see Carter Lindberg, Beyond Charity: Reformation Initiatives for the Poor (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1993). 12 Rubin, M&M, 172. 13 Rubin, M&M, 182. 14 See works of Carolyn Walker Bynum, especially Holy Feast and Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987). 15 On the late medieval martyrs who voiced anticlerical criticisms, such as the Lollards, Hussites and Waldensians, see Euan Cameron, “Medieval Heretics as Protestant Martyrs,” in M&M, 191. See also SAS, 62–73. 16 Dawson, M&M, 267. 17 M&S, 457. 18 Jean-François Gilmont, “Books of Martyrs” in OER gives useful information on the background, sources, and publication history of Protestant and Anabaptist martyrologists. Gilmont only considers the published books as martyrologies, thus ignoring Gregory’s second group of martyrologies which includes Catholic missionary letters. Gilmont’s statement that “since Catholics suffered less persecution, they did not compose martyrologies as large as those of the Protestants” (199) conveys his Protestant bias. 19 M&S, 456. 20 SAS, 197. 21 SAS, 172. 22 See Martin Brecht, Martin Luther: Shaping and Defining the Reformation 1521–1532 (Minnesota, MN: Fortress Press, 1990), 102–4. 23 SAS, 147. 24 See David Bagchi, “Luther and the Problem of Martyrdom,” in M&M, 209–19. 25 Robert Kolb, For All the Saints: Changing Perceptions of Martyrdom and Sainthood in the Lutheran Reformation (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1987), 156–7. 26 See the Appendix in Kolb, For All the Saints, for the list of Rabus’ martyrs.

508

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 508

12/19/2000 10:14:33 AM

Notes 27 Cameron, M&M, 198. 28 For example, the city council of Zurich codified execution for rebaptism in 1526 due to the emergence of Swiss Anabaptism. See SAS, 202. 29 Hillerbrand in OER estimates 5,000 Anabaptist executions during the sixteenth century (248). 30 On the various earlier song collections, see SAS, 212–26. The German Anabaptist songbook, Ausbund (1583) is still in use among the Old Order Amish in North America, according to SAS, 249. 31 Hermina Joldersma and Jouis Grijp, ed. and trans., “Elisabeth’s Manly Courage”: Testimonials and Songs of Martyred Anabaptist Women in the Low Countries (Milwaukee, WI: Marquette University Press, 2001), 21–7 [Indicated as Courage]. 32 See SAS, 231–5. 33 R. Po-chia Hsia discusses Catholic martyrdom in three separate chapters in The World of Catholic Renewal, 1540–1770 (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1998) [Indicated as WCR]. In the chapter entitled “The Martyred Church,” Hsia focuses on the Catholics in Tudor and Stuart England, Ireland, and the Dutch Republic. The following information comes from pages 80–91. 34 SAS, 274. 35 The estimate is found in Hillerbrand, OER, 248. 36 David Loades, “John Foxe and the Traitors: The Politics of the Marian Persecution (Presidential Address),” in M&M, 244. 37 A sophisticated online edition of the major sixteenth century editions of Acts and Monuments may be found at www.hrionline.ac.uk/johnfoxe/index.html. 38 Wabuda, M&M, 257–8. 39 M&S, 466. 40 See WCR, 80–6. 41 See Hsia’s explanation of the rise of the nationalistic militant Irish Catholicism under the oppressive regime of Protestant England between 1590 and 1660 in WCR, 86–91. 42 Simon Ditchfield, “Martyrs on the Move: Relics as Vindicators of Local Diversity in the Tridentine Church,” in M&M, 287. 43 See Ditchfield, M&M, 287–93. 44 According to Peter Burke, “How to be a Counter-Reformation Saint,” during this period 55 were canonized as saints including 16 among the 43 beati. See Burke, ed., The Historical Anthropology of Early Modern Italy (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 154–7. Hsia relies on Burke’s work in his discussion on martyrdom is his chapter, “Counter-Reformation,” in WCR, 122–37. Hsia thinks that the church was reluctant to canonize new martyrs because of its triumphant self-image and its Tridentine reform of the process of canonization. And because the overwhelming numbers of the martyrs were associated with the Jesuits, who would not necessarily follow papal directions despite their vow of obedience to the pope, the popes may have been cautious toward their canonization. Burke points to an important question if the saints were “witnesses to the values of the age in which they lived or the age in which they were canonized” (156). 45 On the threefold description of medieval spiritual martyrdom “as patience in adversity, compassion toward the needy, and endurance of injustice combined with love of one’s enemy,” in James of Voragine’s (c. 1230–98) Golden Legend, see SAS, 40, 51. On the bibliographic information on Golden Legend, see SAS, 374, n.23. 46 On the bibliographic information about 50 different works in 203 editions written between 1580 and 1640 on the English Catholic martyrs, see The Contemporary Printed Literature of the English Counter-Reformation between 1558 and 1640. 47 See SAS, 298–301.

509

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 509

12/19/2000 10:14:33 AM

Notes 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65

66

67

68

69

M&S, 466. SAS, 276–9. SAS, 294. Courage, 15. Courage, 16; also see 28. Courage, 31. Fredrica Harris Thompsett. “Protestant Women as Victims and Subjects: Reformation Legacies from John Foxe’s Book of Martyrs,” in This Sacred History: Anglican Reflections for John Booty, ed. Donald S. Armentrout (Cambridge, MA: Cowley Publications, 1990), 185. Thompsett, “Protestant Women,” 191–4. Thompsett, “Protestant Women,” 188. Ellen Macek, “The Emergence of a Feminine Spirituality in The Book of Martyrs,” Sixteenth-Century Journal 19 (1988): 63–80 (esp. 79). Anne Dillon, The Construction of Martyrdom in the English Catholic Community, 15351603 (Aldershot and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2002), 277–322. Dillon, Construction, 319. Dillon, Construction, 288. Nikki Shepardson,“Gender and the Rhetoric of Martyrdom in Jean Crespin’s Histoire de vrays tesmoins.” Sixteenth Century Journal, 35–1 (2004): 158. Ibid., “Gender,” 157. Shepardson, “Gender,” 174. M&S, 467. See also SAS, 251–2. On the Christian Century, see C. R. Boxer, The Christian Century in Japan, 1549– 1650 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1951); J. F. Moran, The Japanese and the Jesuits: Alessandro Valignano in Sixteenth-Century Japan (London: Routledge, 1993); Andrew C. Ross, A Vision Betrayed: The Jesuits in Japan and China 1542–1742 (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1994); Haruko Nawata Ward, Women Religious Leaders in Japan’s Christian Century, 1549–1650 (Aldershot, UK and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2009). According to Matsuda Kiichi, Valignano to kirishitan shūmon (Tokyo: Chōbunsha, 1992), 189–90, during the height of final persecution between 1614 and 1640, there were in estimate 200,000 to 300,000 Christians and that about 4,000 of these became martyrs. Hsia’s estimate 2,126 is much lower. See WCR, 185. George Elison. Deus Destroyed: The Image of Christianity in Early Modern Japan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973); Shūsaku Endō, Silence, trans. William Johnston (New York: Taplinge, 1979). As of 1998, among 44 Jesuit canonized saints, there are 29 martyrs, of whom 28 are from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, 8 are from the Japan mission, 11 (North America), 11 (British Isles), 4 (River Plate), and 2 (Košice). The 140 beatified Jesuit martyrs include 40 (Brazil), 34 (Japan), 18 (England), 5 (Salsette), and 2 (Aubenas). In addition, the Society recognizes 8 martyrs in the Ethiopian mission, 1 (India), 1 (Monomotapa), 3 (Chile), and 8 (Mexico). These exclude non-Jesuit martyrs. See Joseph N. Tylenda, Jesuit Saints and Martyrs: Short Biographies of the Saints, Blessed, Venerables, and Servants of God of the Society of Jesus, 2nd edn (Chicago: Jesuit Way, 1998). See SAS, 288–9; Wabuda, M&M, 251.

510

9780567033604_Notes_Final_txt_print.indd 510

12/19/2000 10:14:33 AM